she would love him with all her heart.  You can imagine that the chatelaine became still more enamoured while observing what a difference there was between a young knight like Jehan, white, downy, and agreeable, and an old fellow like Imbert, bristly, yellow, and wrinkled.  This difference brought back to her memory that which she had found in the pleasure of love.  Moved by this souvenir, her kisses became so warm that Jehan came back to his senses, his look improved, and he could see Bertha, from whom in a feeble voice he asked forgiveness.  But Bertha forbade him to speak until La Fallotte had arrived.  Then both of them consumed the time by loving each other with their eyes, since in those of Bertha there was nothing but compassion, and on these occasions pity is akin to love.

La Fallotte was a hunchback, vehemently suspected of dealings in necromancy, and of riding to nocturnal orgies on a broomstick, according to the custom of witches.  Certain persons had seen her putting the harness on her broom in the stable, which, as everyone knows is on the housetops.  To tell the truth, she possessed certain medical secrets, and was of such great service to ladies in certain things, and to the nobles, that she lived in perfect tranquillity, without giving up the ghost on a pile of fagots, but on a feather bed, for she had made a hatful of money, although the physicians tormented her by declaring that she sold poisons, which was certainly true, as will be shown in the sequel.  The servant and La Fallotte came on the same ass, making such haste that they arrived at the castle before the day had fully dawned.

The old hunchback exclaimed, as she entered the chamber, “Now then, my children, what is the matter?”

This was her manner, which was familiar with great people, who appeared very small to her.  She put on her spectacles, and carefully examined the wound, saying—­

“This is fine blood, my dear; you have tasted it.  That’s all right, he has bled externally.”

Then she washed the wound with a fine sponge, under the nose of the lady and the servant, who held their breath.  To be brief, Fallotte gave it as her medical opinion, that the youth would not die from this blow, “although,” said she, looking at his hand, “he will come to a violent end through this night’s deed.”

This decree of chiromancy frightened considerably both Bertha and the maid.  Fallotte prescribed certain remedies, and promised to come again the following night.  Indeed, she tended the wound for a whole fortnight, coming secretly at night-time.  The people about the castle were told by the servants that their young lady, Sylvia de Rohan, was in danger of death, through a swelling of the stomach, which must remain a mystery for the honour of Madame, who was her cousin.  Each one was satisfied with this story, of which his mouth was so full that he told it to his fellows.