like a pile of dim rock in their way.

At a mile's distance from the walls the King got off his horse, and bid
his squires strip him. He ungirt his sword, took off helm and circlet,
cloak, blazoned surcoat, the girdle of his county. Beggared so of all
emblems of his grace, clad only in hauberk of steel, bareheaded, without
weapon, and on foot, he walked among his mounted men into the little
town of Fontevrault. That which he could not do off, his sovereign
inches, sovereign eye, gait of mastery, prevailed over all other robbery
of his estate. The people bent their knees as he passed; not a
few--women with babies in their shawls, lads and girls--caught at his
hand or hauberk's edge, to kiss it and get the virtue out of him that
is known to reside in a king. When he came within sight of the church he
knelt and let his head sink down to his breast. But his grief seemed to
strike inwards like a frost; he stiffened and got up, and went forward.
No one would have guessed him a penitent then, who saw him mount the
broad steps to meet his brother. Before the shut doors of the abbey was
Count John, very splendid in a purple cloak, his crown of a count upon
his yellow hair. He stood like a king among his peers, but flushed and
restless, twiddling his fingers as kings do not twiddle theirs.

Irresolution kept him where he was until Richard had topped the first
flight of steps. But then he came down to meet him in too much of a
hurry, tripping, blundering the degrees, nodding and poking his head,
with hands stretched out and body bent, like his who supplicates what he
does not deserve.

'Hail, King of England, O hail!' he said, wheedling, royally vested,
royally above, yet grovelling there to the prince below him. King
Richard stopped with his foot on the next step, and let the Count come
down.

'How lies he?' were his first words; the other's face grew fearful.

'Eh, I know not,' he said, shuddering. 'I have not seen him.' Now, he
must have been in Fontevrault for a day or more.

'Why not?' asked Richard; and John stretched out his arms again.

'Oh, brother, I waited for you!' he cried, then added lower, 'I could
not face him alone.' This was perfectly evident, or he would never have
said it.

'Pish!' said King Richard, that is no way to mend matters. But it is
written, "They shall look on him whom they pierced." Come you in.' He
mounted the steps to his brother's level; and men saw that he was nearly
a hand taller, thoug