He smiled at her enthusiasm.

"We'll sit down here out of the crowd," he said,--and, taking her
arm gently, he guided her to a retired corner of the studio which
was curtained off to make a cosy and softly cushioned recess. "You
have told me half a romance! Perhaps I can supply the other half."
He paused, looking at her, whimsically pleased to see the warm
young blood flushing her cheeks as he spoke, and her eyes drooping
under his penetrating gaze. "Long, long ago--as you put it--in the
days of good Queen Bess, there lived a certain Hugo de Jocelin, a
nobleman of France, famed for fierce deeds of arms, and for making
himself generally disagreeable to his neighbours with whom he was
for ever at cross-purposes. This contentious personage had two
sons,--Jeffrey and Amadis,--also knights-at-arms, inheriting the
somewhat excitable nature of their father; and the younger of
these, Amadis, whose name I bear, was selected by the Duc d'Anjou
to accompany him with his train of nobles and gentles, when that
'petit grenouille' as he called himself, went to England to seek
Queen Elizabeth's hand in marriage. The Duke failed in his
ambitious quest, as we all know, and many of his attendants got
scattered and dispersed,--among them Amadis, who was entirely lost
sight of, and never returned again to the home of his fathers. He
was therefore supposed to be dead--"

"MY Amadis!" murmured Innocent, her eyes shining like stars as she
listened.

"YOUR Amadis!--yes!" And his voice softened. "Of course he must
have been YOUR Amadis!--your 'Knight of old and warrior bold!'