think he is right. That stricken lady, in the habit of a grey nun of
Fontevrault, came by night to Paris, and found her brother with John of
Mortain. They had been upon the very business. Philip, not all knave,
had been moved by the news of Richard's immobility. He had had some of
De Gurdun's report.

'Christ-dieu,' he said, 'a great king calm in chains! And my brother
Richard. Yet God knows I hate him.' So he went muttering on. The Count
edged in his words as he could.

'He hates you, indeed, sire. He hates me. He hates all of us.'

'I think we could find him reasons for that, my friend, if he lacked
them,' said Philip shrewdly. 'Do you know that De Gurdun is in Poictou
come from Styria?'

Count John said nothing; but he did know it very well. When they
announced Madame Alois the King started, and the Count went sick white.

'We will receive her Grace,' said Philip, and advanced towards the door
for the purpose. In she came in her old eager, stumbling, secret way,
knelt in a hurry to kiss her brother's hand, then rose and looked
intently at John of Mortain.

The King said, 'You visit us late, sister; but your occasions may drive
you.'

'They do drive me, sire. I have seen the Sieur Gilles de Gurdun. King
Richard is in hold at Gratz, and must be delivered.'

'By you, sister?'

'By me, sire.'

'You grow Christian, Madame.'

'It is my need, sire. I have done King Richard a great wrong. This is
not tolerable to me.'

'Eh,' says Philip, 'not so fast. Was no wrong done to you?'

'Wrong was done me,' said the white girl, 'but not by him.'

'The wrong lies in his blood. What though the wrong-doer is dead? His
blood must answer it.'

Alois shivered, and so, for that matter, did one other there. She
answered, 'I pray for his death. Dying or dead, his blood shall answer
it.'

'You speak darkly, sister.'

'I live in the dark,' said Alois.

'King Richard has affronted my house in you sister.'

But she said, 'I have affronted King Richard through his house.'

'Is this all you have to say, Alois?'

'No, sire,' she told him, with a fierce and biting look at Mortain; 'but
it is all I need say now.'

It was. A cry broke strangling from the Count. 'Ha, Jesus! Sire! Save my
brother!' The wretch could bear no more. The woman's eyes were like
swords.

King Philip marvelled. 'You!' he said, 'you!' John put out his hands.
Oh, sire, Madame is in the right. I am a wicked man. I must make my
brother amends. He mu