“And what did I give you, Isoult?” he
whispered.
“’Twas your honour to keep, my lord,”
said the girl.
He had been looking at her long before she made an
end, but not before she had gathered strength from
her theme. When he did look he saw that her eyes
were large and dark; honesty and clear courage burned
steadily there; the candles reflected in them showed
no flickering. She had her hands crossed over
her bosom as if to hold a treasure close: her
treasures were her ring and her faithful heart.
He knew now that he could not gain her for this turn,
wife or no wife; in this great mood of hers she would
have killed herself sooner than let him touch her;
and when she had ended her say he knew that she had
spoken the truth, a truth which put him to shame.
Like a spoilt boy rather than a rogue he began to
plead, nevertheless. He went on his knees, unbound
her two hands and held them, trying to win his way
by protestations of love and desire. The words,
emptied of all fact by this time (for the boy was
honest enough), rang hollow. She looked down
at him sadly, but very gently, denying him against
all her love. The fool went on, set on his own
way. At last she said—
“Lord, such love as thou hast for me Galors
hath also. And shall I let my looks undo me with
thee, and thee with me? I will follow thee as
a servant, and never leave thee without it be thy
will. I beseech of thee deface not thine own
image which I carry here. Now let me go.”
She touched herself upon the breast. This was
how she drove the evil spirit out of him. He
got up from his knees and thanked her gruffly.
His words came curt and sharp, with the old order in
the tone of them; but she knew that he was really
ordering himself. She held out her hand, rather
shyly—for, the battle won, the conquered
had resumed command—he took and kissed
it. She turned to go. The evil spirit within
him lifted up a bruised head.
“By God!” cried he, “you shall lie
in the bed and I at the door.”
And so it was, and so remained, while High March held
the pair of them. By which it will appear that
the evil spirit was disposed in pious uses.
BOY’S LOVE
Maulfry did not appear at High March either the next
day, or the next. In fact, a week passed without
any sign from her, which sufficed Isoult to avoid
the tedious attentions of the maids, and to attract
those of the Countess of Hauterive. This great
lady had been prepared to be gracious to the page
for the sake of the master. She had not expected
the master to show his appreciation of her act by leaving
her alone. The two of them were very much together;
Prosper was beginning to court his wife. The
Countess grew frankly jealous of Roy; and the more
she felt herself slipping in her own esteem, the more
irritated with the boy did she grow. She had
long admitted to herself that Prosper pleased her
