my Gregory, that conveys to you those lands of Ralph de
Belomys which last year I confiscated. And this tedious Messire de
Berners is willing now--he is eager to have you for a son-in-law."

About them fell the dying leaves, of many glorious colors, but the air
of this new day seemed raw and chill, while, very calmly, Dame Ysabeau
took Sir Gregory's hand and laid it upon the hand of Rosamund Eastney.
"Our paladin is, in the outcome, a mortal man, and therefore I do not
altogether envy you. Yet he has his moments, and you are capable. Serve,
then, not only his desires but mine also, dear Rosamund."

There was a silence. The girl spoke as though it was a sacrament. "I
will, madame and Queen."

Thus did the Queen end her holiday.

A little later the Countess of Farrington rode from Ordish with all her
train save one; and riding from that place, where love was, she sang
very softly.

Sang Ysabeau:

"As with her dupes dealt Circe
Life deals with hers, for she
Reshapes them without mercy,
And shapes them swinishly,
To wallow swinishly,
And for eternity;

"Though, harder than the witch was,
Life, changing not the whole,
Transmutes the body, which was
Proud garment of the soul,
And briefly drugs the soul,
Whose ruin is her goal;

"And means by this thereafter
A subtler mirth to get,
And mock with bitterer laughter
Her helpless dupes' regret,
Their swinish dull regret
For what they half forget."

And within the hour came Hubert Frayne to Ordish, on a foam-specked
horse, as he rode to announce to the King's men the King's barbaric
murder overnight, at Berkeley Castle, by Queen Ysabeau's order.

"Ride southward," said Lord Berners, and panted as they buckled on his
disused armor; "but harkee, Frayne! if you pass the Countess of
Farrington's company, speak no syllable of your news, since it is not
convenient that a lady so thoroughly and so praise-worthily--Lord, Lord,
how I have fattened!--so intent on holy things, in fine, should have her
meditations disturbed by any such unsettling tidings. Hey, son-in-law?"

Sir Gregory Darrell laughed, very bitterly. "He that is without blemish
among you--" he said. Then they armed completely, and went forth to
battle against the murderous harlot.

THE END OF THE FOURTH NOVEL

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 1: For this perplexing matter the curious may consult Paul
Verville's _Notice sur la vie de Nicolas de Caen, p. 93 et seq_. The
inde