men that the Devil can
wear so fair a mien!"

"Ay, cast some holy water on him," said Tirechair, "and you will see him
turn into a toad.--I am off to tell the office all about them."

On hearing this speech, the lady roused herself from the reverie into
which she had sunk, and looked at the constable, who was donning his
red-and-blue jacket.

"Whither are you off to?" she asked.

"To tell the justices that wizards are lodging in our house very much
against our will."

The lady smiled.

"I," said she, "am the Comtesse de Mahaut," and she rose with a dignity
that took the man's breath away. "Beware of bringing the smallest
trouble on your guests. Above all, respect the old man; I have seen him
in the company of your Lord the King, who entreated him courteously;
you will be ill advised to trouble him in any way. As to my having been
here--never breathe a word of it, as you value your life."

She said no more, but relapsed into thought.

Presently she looked up, signed to Jacqueline, and together they went up
into Godefroid's room. The fair Countess looked at the bed, the carved
chairs, the chest, the tapestry, the table, with a joy like that of
the exile who sees on his return the crowded roofs of his native town
nestling at the foot of a hill.

"If you have not deceived me," she said to Jacqueline, "I promise you a
hundred crowns in gold."

"Behold, madame," said the woman, "the poor angel is confiding--here is
all his treasure."

As she spoke, Jacqueline opened a drawer in the table and showed some
parchments.

"God of mercy!" cried the Countess, snatching up a document that caught
her eye, on which she read, _Gothofredus Comes Gantiacus_ (Godefroid,
Count of Ghent).

She dropped the parchment, and passed her hand over her brow; then,
feeling, no doubt, that she had compromised herself by showing so much
emotion, she recovered her cold demeanor.

"I am satisfied," said she.

She went downstairs and out of the house. The constable and his wife
stood in their doorway, and saw her take the path to the landing-place.

A boat was moored hard by. When the rustle of the Countess' approach was
audible, a boatman suddenly stood up, helped the fair laundress to take
her seat in it, and rowed with such strength as to make the boat fly
like a swallow down the stream.

"You are a sorry fellow," said Jacqueline, giving the officer's shoulder
a familiar slap. "We have earned a hundred gold crowns this morning."