s apparent, simple, and natural; and contentment came
into his heart like a flight of linnets over level fields at dawn. He
left her, and as he went he sang.

Sang Maudelain:

"_Christ save us all, as well He can,
A solis ortus cardine!
For He is both God and man,
Qui natus est de virgine,
And we but part of His wide plan
That sing, and heartily sing we,
'Gloria Tibi, Domine!'_

"_Between a heifer and an ass
Enixa est puerpera;
In ragged woollen clad He was
Qui regnat super aethera,
And patiently may we then pass
That sing, and heartily sing we,
'Gloria Tibi, Domine!_"

The Queen shivered in the glad sunlight. "I am, it must be, pitiably
weak," she said at last, "because I cannot sing as he does. And, since
I am not very wise, were he to return even now-- But he will not
return. He will never return," the Queen repeated, carefully, and over
and over again. "It is strange I cannot comprehend that he will never
return! Ah, Mother of God!" she cried, with a steadier voice, "grant
that I may weep! nay, of thy infinite mercy let me presently find the
heart to weep!" And about the Queen of England many birds sang
joyously.

Next day the English barons held a council, and in the midst of it King
Richard demanded to be told his age.

"Your Grace is in your twenty-second year," said the uneasy Gloucester,
and now with reason troubled, since he had been seeking all night long
for the evanished Maudelain.

"Then I have been under tutors and governors longer than any other ward
in my dominion. My lords, I thank you for your past services, but I
need them no more." They had no check handy, and Gloucester in
particular foreread his death-warrant, but of necessity he shouted with
the others, "Hail, King of England!"

That afternoon the King's assumption of all royal responsibility was
commemorated by a tournament, over which Dame Anne presided. Sixty of
her ladies led as many knights by silver chains into the
tilting-grounds at Smithfield, and it was remarked that the Queen
appeared unusually mirthful. The King was in high good humor, already
a pattern of conjugal devotion; and the royal pair retired at dusk to
the Bishop of London's palace at Saint Paul's, where was held a merry
banquet, with dancing both before and after supper.

THE END OF THE SIXTH NOVEL

VII

The Story of the Heritage

"_Pour vous je suis en prison mise,
En ces