He had received his niece not unkindly, but with complete indifference, and had soon ceased to think about her in any way.  She had a home beneath his roof.  She had her own apartments, and she was welcome to occupy herself as she chose.  Sometimes, when he was in a better humour than usual, he would give her a rough caress.  More frequently he swore at her for being a useless girl, when she might, as a boy, have been of some good in the world.  He had no intention of providing her with any marriage portion, so that it was superfluous to attempt to seek out a husband for her.  She and Annette were occasionally of use when there was sickness within the walls of the Castle, or when he or his followers came in weary and wounded from some hard fighting.  On the whole he did not object to her presence at Saut, and her own little bower was not devoid of comfort, and even of luxury.

But for all that, the girl was often sick at heart with all that she saw and heard around her, and was unconsciously pining for some life, she scarce knew what, but a life that should be different from the one she was doomed to now.

“Sometimes I think that I will retire to a Convent and shut myself up there,” she said to Gaston, her eyes looking far away over the wooded plain before them; “and yet I love my liberty.  I love to roam the forest glades —­ to hear the songs of the bird, and to feel the fresh winds of heaven about me.  Methinks I should pine and die shut up within high walls, without the liberty to rove as I will.  And then I am not devote.  I love not to spend long hours upon my knees.  I feel nearest to the Blessed Saints and the Holy Mother of God out here in these woods, where no ribald shouts of mirth or blasphemous oaths can reach me.  But the Sisters live shut behind high walls, and they love best to tell their beads beside the shrine of some Saint within their dim chapels.  They were good to us upon our journey.  I love and reverence the holy Sisters, and yet I do not know how I could be one of them.  I fear me they would soon send me forth, saying that I was not fit for their life.”

“Nay, truly such a life is not for thee!” cried Gaston, with unwonted heat.  “Sweet maiden, thou wert never made to pine away behind walls that shelter such as cannot stand against the trials and troubles of life.  For it is not so with thee.  Thou hast courage; thou hast a noble heart and a strong will.  There is other work for thee to do.  Lady, thou hast this day made me thy humble slave for ever.  My brother once free, as by thy aid I trust he will be ere another day has dawned, and I will repay thy service by claiming as my reward the right to call myself thine own true knight.  Sweet Constanza, I will live and, if need be, die for thee.  Thou wilt henceforth be the light of my path, the star of my life.  Lady, thy face hath haunted me ever since that day, so long gone by, when I saw thee first, scarce knowing if thou wert a creature of flesh and blood or a sprite of the woodland and water.  Fair women have I looked upon ere now, but none so fair as thee.  Let me but call myself thy true and faithful knight, and the day will come when I will stand boldly forth and make thee mine before all the world!”