At last Constance came, though unwillingly, for she was still deeply grieved, believing that her husband had really sent that cruel letter.  When Alla saw her he embraced her tenderly, and for a long time they talked until the past was made clear.  Alla, it seemed, had punished the wicked old queen with death, and had mourned for Constance ever since.  Great was their joy then, and very pleasant was it to see their reunion after so many years of danger and separation.  Soon they went all three to the emperor, and his happiness at finding again his long-lost daughter knew no bounds.

The ways of God are wonderful indeed!  Who would have dreamed that after such sorrows such happiness was possible for all?  May Jesus Christ of His mercy send us like joy after woe, and keep us all in health and goodness.  Amen.

* * * * *

“That was indeed a virtuous tale!” said our Host.  “Sir Parish Priest, I swear ’tis your turn now, by heaven!  Tell us your tale.  By my halidom, I am eager to hear your story.”  “What ails the man that he swears so?” answered the Parson.  “Ho, ho!” laughed Harry Bailey.  “Have we a Lollard here?  A man who would teach us our manners and save our souls?  Would you preach us somewhat, Sir Priest?” “That he shall not!” answered the Ship-man; “no sermons for me.  I’ve known adventures in my time, sailing the seas from Jutland to Cape Finisterre.  I know all the harbours of Brittany and Spain, and many’s the cask of good Bordeaux wine I have landed while the coastguard slept.  Oh; a good life is that of the sea, with the wind a-blowing a man’s beard and tanning his skin, and storms to brave and pirates to fight.  I’ve seen men walk the plank, I have.  No mercy to the prisoner on the high seas!  Home they go by water as soon as may be!  No landlubber am I!  Let me tell my yarn; a jolly one, I promise you.”

So as we jogged along the Shipman told his tale of a merchant who sailed afar in search of wealth, and whose home meantime was robbed, for his wife was not true to him and let false priests trick him.  It was a coarse vulgar tale, as sailors’ stories often are.  It amused some of the company, for indeed men’s tastes are different and are pleased in different ways.

As the Shipman finished, Harry Bailey’s blustering manner changed.  Courteously and meekly he rode up to the Prioress, and in his politest voice addressed her.

“My Lady Prioress, if you please, and if you are sure it will not grieve you, I would propose that you tell a tale next.  Will you deign to do so, lady dear?” “Gladly,” she answered.

She was a pleasant figure to look upon.  Her wimple was snow-white, and her black cloak fell in graceful folds from her shoulders, while now and then her red coral rosary, with its green gaudies, showed as she moved the arm on which it hung.  Her features were very beautiful, with a straight sensitive nose, clear grey eyes, and a full small mouth.  She told her tale in a cultured voice, which pleased us all greatly.  This was her tale: