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The Lady Margaret sat with some of her ladies in her audience-chamber. A dark-eyed page was at her feet, playing on a small harp, and Jeanne sat beside her. Margaret lay back at her ease, a splendid figure against the fur-skin that covered her chair. At the far end of the room some gentlemen stood, conversing together; the Chevalier leaned over the back of his cousin's chair, whispering occasionally in her ear. She paid little heed to his sallies, but now and then jerked her shoulder impatiently, and frowned.
"Art cold today, sweet cousin," the Chevalier whispered.