hall to receive a
messenger, and Dame Joan de Vaux was in waiting, so Dame Elizabeth, Dame
Isabel, Dame Tiffany, and I were those that passed along the gallery.
Dame Isabel and Dame Tiffany the maid let pass, with no more than a
pitiful look at the former, that deigned her no word: but when Dame
Elizabeth came next, on the further side, I being betwixt, the maid
stepped forward into the midst, as if to stay her. Her thin hands were
clasped over her bosom, and the pitifullest look ever I saw was in her
eyes.

"_Dame, ayez pitie_!" was all she said; and it was rather breathed than
spoken.

"Bless us, Saint Mary!--art thou here again?" quoth Dame Elizabeth of a
testier fashion than she was wont. "Get thee gone, child; I have no
time to waste. Dear heart, what a fuss is here over a crown or twain!
Dost think thy money is lost? I will pay thee when it liketh me; I have
not my purse to mine hand at this minute."

And on she walked, brushing past the maid. I tarried.

"Are you Hilda la Vileyne?" I said unto her.

"Dame, that is my name, and here is my little sister Iolande. She hath
not tasted meat [food] this day, nor should not yesterday, had not a
kindly gentleman, given me a denier to buy soup. But truly I do not ask
for charity--only to be paid what I have honestly earned."

"And hadst thou some soup yesterday?"

"Yes--no--Oh, I am older; I can wait better than the little ones. The
mother is sick: she and the babes must not wait. It does not signify
for me."

Oh, how hungered were those great eyes, that looked too large for the
white face! The very name of soup seemed to have brought the craving
look therein.

I turned to the small. "Tell me, Iolande, had Hilda any of the soup
yesterday?"

"No," said the child; "I and Madeleine drank it, every drop, that our
mother left."

"And had Hilda nothing?"

"There was a mouldy crust in the cupboard," said the child. "It had
dropped behind the cup, and Hilda found it when she took the cup down.
We could not see it behind. We can only just reach to take the cup
down, and put it up again. That was what Hilda had, and she wiped the
cup with one end of it."

"The cup that had held the soup?"

"Yes, surely," said the child, with a surprised look. "We only have
one,--does not Madame know?"

"It is an esquelle [porringer; a shallow bowl], not a cup," said Hilda,
reddening a little: "the child hardly knows the difference."

I felt nearhand as though