the youth, for his trusty friend
sleep came not as usual to speed it away; he envied the servant (who
had only arrived about midnight with the baggage-horse,) the influence
of the strong convent wine, and the deep unconsciousness that followed.
In Geoffroy there was something awake which was stronger than wine or
fatigue.

Once more it was day: they saddled their horses, took leave of the
bailiff, and rode to the gate of Mont Salvair, there to await the
youthful Countess. They were not there long before the door opened, the
abbess came out, her train of nuns behind her, and in their midst the
young Garcinde and her foster-sister, who were about to enter upon life
and liberty, while the sisters returned to their pious bondage. There
were so many tears and sighs, embraces and benedictions, that Geoffroy
had still to wait some time before he could see the face of his cousin,
now lost to him under one veil after another. But one glance of her
black eyes, and the sheen of her fair hair, had wrought such an effect
upon him, that he stood by his horse in utter confusion of mind, and
hardly heard the abbess, who enquired in evident wonder whether he were
really the messenger who yesterday brought Count Malaspina's letter,
and to whom his daughter was to be confided. The servant, who was
standing by with folded hands and open mouth, staring at the holy
women, had to nudge the youth with his elbow before he came to himself,
and reverentially bowed assent to what he had only imperfectly heard.
"Sir Hugo himself," he said, his eyes still fixed on his cousin's fair
hair, "had been prevented coming. He had charged him to ride slowly,
and to spend the night at La Vaquiera." By mentioning this prudent
plan, he hoped to remove any scruple the abbess might have in confiding
the maiden to so young an escort. He seemed however, to have produced a
quite contrary effect, for after one perturbed heavenward look, the
noble lady turned away to some of the older nuns, and began in a low
voice to take counsel with them. Then when the bailiff had led out the
horses for the young women, and while some of the lay-sisters helped
the servant to load the baggage horse with clothes and provisions, a
lively face emerged from the living hedge of black and white veils. It
belonged to Aigleta, the child of Garcinde's nurse, who had grown up to
be a blooming maiden, and who now approached the mute messenger,
holding out a small but vigorous hand, and exclaim