He, her sovereign, took every event with equal mind,
and placidly, whether it was a wedding, a fight, or
a miraculous fountain of milk. If she had drawn
his food from herself he would not have questioned
her; if it had been her last ounce of life he would
not have thanked her the more. You cannot blame
him for this. To begin with, he knew nothing
of her or her doings when he was asleep or on the watch.
And a young man is a prodigal always, of another’s
goods besides his own, while a young woman is his
banker, never so rich as when he overdraws. Deprived
of him by her own act, his wife in name, she was his
servant in reality. His servant and, just now,
his sumpter-beast. Very wistfully she served
him, but very diligently, only asking that he should
neither thank nor blame her. It very seldom occurred
to him to do either; but so sure as he threw a “good
child” at her, she had a lump in her throat
and smarting eyes. True, she had her little rewards,
to be enjoyed when he could not guess that her heart
was all in a flutter, or see that her cheeks were wet.
Night and morning they said their Pater Noster
and Ave Maria, out of which (although she understood
them as little as he did) she did not fail to suck
the comfort he had promised her. She learned also
to speak familiarly to Saint Isidore and Madonna.
This served her in good stead later in her career.
Meantime, night and morning they knelt side by side,
their arms touched, sometimes their hands strayed and
joined company. Then hers ended by resting where
they were, as in a warm nest. Pray what more
could a girl ask of the Christian faith?
By sunset of the second day passed in this fashion
they were before the great west front of Gracedieu
Minster, knocking at the Mercy Door. It opened.
They were safe for the present, and Prosper felt his
horizon enlarged.
CHAPTER XI
SANCTUARY
After Vespers that day Prosper demanded an audience
of the Lady Abbess, and had it. He found her
a handsome, venerable old lady, at peace with all
the world and, so far as that comported with her religion,
a woman of it. She had held high rank in it by
right of birth; she knew what it could do, and what
not do, of good and evil. Now that she was old
enough to call its denizens her children, she folded
her hands and played grandmother. Naturally, therefore,
she knew Prosper by name; for that, as much as his
frank looks, she made him welcome. She did not
ask it, but he could see that she expected to be enlightened
upon the subject of Isoult—doubtful company
for a knight; so having made up his mind how much
he could afford to tell her, he did not waste time
in preliminaries.
“Madam,” said he, after the first greetings
of good company, “a knight adventuring in this
forest cannot see very far before his face, and may
make error worse by what he does to solve error.
If by mischance such a thing should befall him, he
must not faint, but persist until he has loosed not
only the knot he has tied himself, but that as well
which he has made more inexorable.”
Copyrights
The Forest Lovers from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
