f,' said he, 'none pass here but the brave.'

'Out, parrot,' quoth Gilles, and plunged through the wood.

Because of Gaston's vow there was no blood shed at the moment, but he
had hopes that he might be released in time. 'There goes a dead man,'
was therefore his comment before he resumed.

But Jehane, when she heard the horse, ran out to meet his rider. Her
face was alight. 'Come in, come in,' she said, and took him by the hand.
He followed her with a beating heart, neither daring nor knowing how to
say anything. She led him into the little dark chapel.

'Gilles, Gilles,' she said panting, 'do you love me, Gilles?'

He was hoarse, could hardly speak for the crack in his throat. 'O God,'
he said under his breath, 'O God, Jehane, how I love you!'

Here, because of a certain flicker in her eyes, he made forward; but she
put out her two hands the length of her arms and fenced him off. 'No,
no, Gilles, not yet.' Pain sharpened her voice. 'Listen first to me. I
do not love you; but I am frightened. Some one is coming; you must be
here to help me. I give myself to you--I will be yours--I must--there is
no other way.'

She stopped; you could have heard the thudding of her heart.

'Give then,' said Gilles with a croak, and took her.

She felt herself engulfed in a sea of fire, but set her teeth and
endured the burning of that death. The poor fellow did but kiss her once
or twice, and kissed no closer than the Angevin; but the grace is one
that goes by favour. Gilles, nevertheless, took primer seisin and was
content. Afterwards, hand in hand, trembling each, the possessed and the
possessing, they stood before the twinkling lamp which hinted at the Son
of God, and waited what must happen.

In about half an hour's time Jehane heard the long padding tread she
knew so well, and took a deep breath. Next Gilles heard something.

'One comes. Who comes?' he said whispering.

'Richard of Anjou. I need you now.'

'Do you want me to--?' Gilles honestly thought he was to kill the Count.
She undeceived him soon.

'To kill Richard, Gilles? Nay, man, he is not for your killing.' She
gave a short laugh, not very pleasant for her lover to hear. But Gilles,
for all that, put hand to hilt. The Count of Poictou stooped at the
entry and saw them together.

It wanted but that to blow the embers. Something tigerish surged in him,
some gust of jealousy, some arrogant tide in the blood not all clean. He
moved forward like a wind and cau