hour when men cease from labour, and yet my provident folk are busy.
Hark to the bustle below. That will be the convoy from the Vermandois.
Jesu, what a night!"

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Flurries of snow beat on windows, and draughts stirred the hot ashes
in the braziers and sent the smoke from them in odd spirals about
the chamber. It had become perishing cold, and the monkey among the
bedclothes whimpered and snuggled closer into his nest. There seemed to
be a great stir about the house-door. Loud voices were heard in gusts,
and a sound like a woman's cry. The head on the pillow was raised to
listen.

"A murrain on those folk. There has been bungling among the pack-riders.
That new man Derek is an oaf of oafs."

She rang her silver bell sharply and waited on the ready footsteps. But
none came. There was silence now below, an ominous silence.

"God's curse upon this household," the woman cried. The monkey whimpered
again, and she took it by the scruff and tossed it to the floor. "Peace,
ape, or I will have you strangled. Bestir yourself, father, and call
Anton. There is a blight of deafness in this place."

The room had suddenly lost its comfort and become cold and desolate. The
lamps were burning low and the coloured hangings were in deep shadow.
The storm was knocking fiercely at the lattice.

The monk rose with a shiver to do her bidding, but he was forestalled.
Steps sounded on the stairs and the steward entered. The woman in the
bed had opened her mouth to upbraid, when something in his dim figure
struck her silent.

The old man stumbled forward and fell on his knees beside her.

"Madam, dear madam," he stammered, "ill news has come to this house....
There is a post in from Avesnes.... The young master..."

"Philip," and the woman's voice rose to a scream. "What of my son?"

"The lord has taken away what He gave. He is dead, slain in a scuffle
with highway robbers.... Oh, the noble young lord! The fair young
knight! Woe upon this stricken house!"

The woman lay very still, white the old man on his knees drifted into
broken prayers. Then he observed her silence, scrambled to his feet in a
panic, and lit two candles from the nearest brazier. She lay back on
the pillows in a deathly faintness, her face drained of blood. Only her
tortured eyes showed that life was still in her.

Her voice came at last, no louder than a whisper. It was soft now, but
more terrible than the old harshness