They have bidden me see the King crowned and lead him to Paris....

After that they have promised me rest." She laid an arm round Catherine's neck and looked into her eyes.
"You are hungry, sister mine," she said.
The girl started.

For the eyes were no longer those of a boy, but of a mother--very wise, very tender.

Her own mother had died so long ago that she scarcely remembered her.

A rush of longing came over her for something she had never known.