keep himself apart from all joyous company, in the same room where his
mother had brought him into the world, as though there were no other
place on earth where he had a right to be. In his mother's lifetime he
had planted the little tower about with roses, and he still kept her
chamber, bed, and wardrobe, just as she had liked them to be. He for
his part had but few wants, and always held himself prepared to leave
even this corner where he was tolerated, at the first insulting word.
However, no one thought of such an event less than did Count Hugo,
whose heart the boy had entirely won, for he had transferred his love
for his sister, to her fatherless child. But as spite of all the
kindness and care shown him, the son could never force himself to
return the friendly grasp of the hand that had slain his father, all
that the Count could do was to leave his nephew in perfect freedom. He
never required any service from him, thanked him as for a favour
conferred if Geoffroy tamed a falcon, or broke a horse for him, and
when his means began to fail, he would rather himself dispense with a
necessary than that Geoffroy should be disappointed of a wish. However,
he never took him with him on a visit, not that he wished to deny this
illegitimate sprout of the family tree--especially since his
unfortunate mother was no longer there to blush for him--but rather
that he did not wish the youth to witness his own reckless mode of
life, or to be corrupted by the loose manners and dissolute society of
the neighbouring nobles.

Therefore it was that the nephew, who had never received an order from
his uncle, was surprised to be thus suddenly disturbed at so unusual an
hour by the porter, who breathlessly told him what had happened, and
summoned him to the castle. He did not, however, delay to dress and
obey the call. When he entered the chamber, dimly lighted by the
dawning day, he saw the Count sitting at a table with a taper before
him, by the aid of which he had evidently been writing a letter. He now
sat motionless, his head resting on his hands, which were buried deep
in his grey hair. Geoffroy had to call him three times before he could
rouse him from his trance, then when he saw the haggard face and
lifeless eyes he, too, was shocked, although he did not love his uncle.
But he made an effort, enquired whether he was ill, and whether he
should ride to Carcassonne to fetch a leech.

"Saddle a horse, Geoffroy," returned Count Hugo,