"The question is," said the Bishop mildly, "why she should have been
driven to refuge. "You know well
the reason. "She had borne you a daughter." A miracle of miracles. "The Light of Light Divine,
True Brightness undefiled. They sang to the frosty air. "Today
He is born. "Where is your nurse, to permit
this?" said her father, and turned his face away. "The Light of Light Divine,
True Brightness undefined. shouted her father, and raised himself on his
elbow. Get back to your bed. "It is His birthday. I want to see my mother." Terror winged her feet. And being, after all,
her father's own child, she acted at once. It was the time of the Truce of God,
and vigilance was relaxed. But go quickly." "Your Lord was a Jew," he said. This reassured her. It seemed to double the quality of mercy. And I wish to see my
mother." I wish to see my mother." "He was one of Your people," she said to the crucifix, "and by now he is
down the hill." The horse was his
who caught it. Also, it improved the quality of those horses that grazed in
the plain below. She did not reply at once. "I, too, should be up there," whined the old man. She flushed. "I am afraid, father. He is a hard man." "He knows not the word. When he
looks at me there is no liking in his eyes. "A great day, my lord," said the Bishop. "Peace over the land. said the overlord again, and struck the grey a heavy blow. The
horse was his. "You are young, my son, and have been grievously disappointed. "One," said the Bishop, "is the love of a woman. The other is--a child." The donkey stood meekly, with hanging head. "A woman," repeated the Bishop. "One of Your people," she said toward the crucifix. "They are drunk," Clotilde would say. And there was her
mother. Here no one would miss her. For a divided allegiance was hers. He was on his great horse, and he rode up by the
child and looked down at her. "It was I who captured him," he boasted. "The others ran, but I caught
him, so." "I should like to see Our Lady," said the child wistfully. He
fears me, while he loves me." "But I am a simpleton. "Better stay as you are," said the Fool. "Also, there will be no Holy
Eve again for a long time. I--" He
struck his chest. I
go adventuring." "I am adventuring, too," she said. "Only I have no voice and no horse. The boy was doubtful. "I will take you," he said at last, rather heavily. "But where, little
lady?" That decided him. Robbers sulked in their fastnesses, and their horses pawed the
ground. "Wait until Monday," he said from behind her on the horse. "Monday you may fight," she said. She may not love me now." "She will love you. It is the way of a mother to keep on loving." "I am still a girl." "You are still her child." But he was
refused. And the gates opened. She brought
no grain, but fowls only, and of these but two. She was but a means to an end. The girl looked down. "I do, sire." The
butterfly came too quietly to the net. He said: "I would have you come
willingly, or not at all." "You know I will come,"
she said. "You are a hard man, my lord." If she meant to anger him, she failed. They were not soft days. "I am a fighting man. I have no gentle ways." But such kindness as you
have, lavish on the child Clotilde. She is much alone." When he opened them there were only the fire and the dogs about it, and
the Bishop, who was preparing to depart. "I shall not stay, my lord," said the Bishop. He would release the Jew. But the Jew did not come. Guillem, the gaoler, had been waiting for the summons. He did not glance at
the girl. Then he laughed, such laughter as turned the girl
cold. He turned to the girl beside him. "Why, then," he said to the gaoler, "such mercy should have its reward." He turned to Joan. Word went about quickly. they cried through the streets. "Up and
arm. For the _seigneur_ was off,
riding like a madman. The Jew had
stolen the child; therefore, to find the Jew. "The child?" "Out with it," cried Charles and flung himself from his horse. "I have seen no child. "I was released by a child, a
girl. he repeated slowly. "I said but little. Only
that, my lord." The Jew faltered. "She said--she said she wished two things, my lord. "Troubadours, by the sound," said the newcomer. "Coming empty of belly, as come
all troubadours." Here were no warriors, but a Fool and a child. "I want my mother," was the only thing they could get out of her. Her
little body was taut as a bowstring, her lips tight. "She is ill," they said. Besides, they lied. Their eyes were shifty. But not for both
together, since that was not possible. He had sons, but no
daughter, and he would have set her on his shoulder. "I am not here of my own desire. We will not quarrel as to the why of your coming." "Where is she?" "Clotilde," he said. "I have secured that for which I came," said Charles haughtily. "The child is growing." Philip, to give him no tithe of advantage, rose too. "She is ill, Charles. "A short and violent illness," said Philip. "I
was right, as you see, cousin. It is snowing." he roared. Then having run his quarry to earth, he showed mercy. "I doubt if she cares to see me." "Probably not," said Philip. Charles, perforce, must promise mildness. "Softly," he said through his beard. "No harsh words. For now he knew one thing, and knew it well. But it was a feeble voice, and its
weakness struck terror to his soul. His world shook under his
feet. But she was not dying. When she did not reply, but lay back, white to the lips, he rose and
looked down at her. "I can see," he said, "that my touch is bitterness. "I want only your love, my lord, to make me happy," she said. "Unto us also is born a son, Charles." "I am adventuring," he said. He threw out his chest magnificently. They baited him. "I can sing," he replied.