Yes, yes, I will
trust you. No; you shall not kiss me yet; I have not done. Go to the
Queen-Mother, go to the King your brother. Go not to the French King,
nor to Count John. He is more cruel than hyaenas, and more a coward. Find
the Abbot Milo, find the Lord of Bearn, find the Sieur des Barres, find
Mercadet. Raise England, sell your jewels, your crown; eh, God of Gods,
sell your pretty self. The Queen-Mother is a fierce woman, but she will
help you. Do these things faithfully, and I leave King Richard's life in
your hands. May I trust you?' The other girl looked up at her,
wistfully, still touching her chin.

'Kiss me, Jehane!'

'Yes, yes, I will kiss you now, Frozen Heart. You are thawed.'

Jehane, going back to Bordeaux, found Cogia with a ship, wherein she
sailed for Tortosa. But Berengere, Queen of England, played a queen's
part.

CHAPTER XIV

HOW THE LEOPARD WAS LOOSED

The burning thought of Jehane cut off, sixty feet below him, yet far as
she could ever be, swept across Richard's mind like a roaring wind, and
ridded the room for wilder guests. In came stalking Might-have-been and
No-more, holding each by a shrinking shoulder the delicate maid of his
first delight, Jehane, lissom in a thin gown; Jehane like a bud, with
her long hair alight. Her hair was loose, her face aflame; she was very
young, very much to be kissed, fresh and tall--Oh, God, the mere
loveliness of her! In came the scent of wet stubbles, the fresh salt air
of Normandy, the pale gold of the shaws, the pale sky, the mild October
sun. He felt again the stoop, again the lift of her to his horse, again
the stern ride together; saw again the Dark Tower, and all the love and
sweet pleasure that they made. The bride in the church turning her proud
shy head, the bride in his arm, clinging as they flew, the bride in the
tower, the crowned Countess, the nestling mate--oh, impossibly lost!
Inconceivably put away! Eternally his lover and bride!

Pity, if you can, this lonely heart, this king in chains, this hot
Angevin, son of Henry, son of Geoffrey, son of Fulke, this Yea-and-Nay.
He who dared not look upon the city, lest, seeing, he should risk all
to take it, had now looked upon the bride unaware, and could not touch
her. The fragrance of her, the sacred air in which a loved woman moves,
had floated up to him: his by all the laws of hell, in spite of heaven;
but his no more. Such nearness and such deprivation--to see, to desire,
and no