Ursula! There was a little tremulous contraction of the heart,
a little sudden sense of warm sunlight as he said the name over.
Ursula--Ursula! What a kindly cunning mother is Fate: she always gives
the one sweet woman in the world the sweetest of names. For where was
there a sweeter name than Ursula? So soft, so--so--well, just Ursula.
Ursula was safe and had forgiven him. Which of these two mercies was
the greater he hardly knew; the second, perhaps, since it was
undeserved. He was a very humble lover, as all true lovers should be
who realize, with a wondering incomprehension, that in creating woman
last of all the Lord God had concentrated all the wisdom of His six
days' experience, and even then only consummated the perfection after a
seventh day of thoughtful rest. He did not know that the miracle of a
loving woman's forgiveness is as common and natural as the sunshine,
and, let it be said sorrowfully, as necessary to life.

And Ursula was safe. For that they had to thank Villon. It was he who
had grasped the flaw of Saxe's over-proof, and so tumbled the whole
fabric of lies into a ruin never to be built up again. For both these
mercies he humbly thanked God. It is to be noted by the student of the
ways of men that he never gave the Dauphin's safety a thought. He had
risked his life for the boy, and would risk it again if necessary, risk
it cheerfully, but as an abstract proposition he cared little whether
the Dauphin lived or died. Next after Ursula came Commines. There had
been a bitter moment when Commines had tottered on his pedestal, but
Ursula's hand had steadied him just when the touch was needed. Ursula
again! It was marvellous how the whole of Amboise had its orbit round
Ursula. In the end Commines had justified himself, and in that belief
the loyal heart of Stephen La Mothe found the early May sunshine yet
more pleasant and the air sweeter.

Nor was there now any fear but that he would leave Amboise with clean
hands. The white horse and the piebald were ambling side by side under
his feet, and all danger of a sprawling tumble between them in the mud
was at an end. And because he would leave Amboise with clean hands he
could without shame say to Ursula de Vesc such things as are the sacred
treasures of the heart's Holy of Holies. At least it would not be an
unworthy love he had to offer, unworthy of her acceptance, since no
man's love could be fully worthy of Ursula de Vesc, but not un