‘Oh, sister,’ he said, ’Oh, sister, are you very sure of this?

‘I was sure of it,’ replied the lady, ’the moment I saw her in the autumn at Messina.  But now your question is not worth the asking.’

The King abruptly left his sister and went over to the Queen’s side of the palace.  Berengere was sitting upon a balcony, all her ladies with her; but Jehane a little apart.  When the King was announced all rose to their feet.  He looked neither right nor left of him, but fixedly at Jehane, with a high bright flush upon his sharp face and fever sparks in his eyes.  To these signals Jehane, because of her great exaltation, flew the answering flags.  Richard touched Berengere’s hand with the hair on his lip:  to Jehane he said, ‘Come, ma mye,’ and led her out of the balcony.

This was not as it should have been; but Richard, used to his way, took it, and Richard moved could move bigger mountains than those of ceremony.  He lunged forward along the corridors, Jehane following as she might, led by the hand, but not against her will.  No doubt she was with child, no doubt she was glorious on that account.  She was a very proud girl.

Alone, those two who had loved so fondly gazed each at the work wrought upon the other without a word said, the King all luminous with love, and she all dewy.  If soul spoke to soul ever in this world, said Richard’s soul, ‘O Vase, that bearest the pledge of my love!’ and hers, ’O Strong Wine, that brimmest in my cup!’

He came forward and embraced her with his arm.  He felt her heart beat, he guessed her pride; he felt her thrill, he knew his own defeat.  He felt her so strong and salient under his hand—­so strong, so full-budded, so hopeful of fruit—­that despair of her loss seized him again, terrible rage.  He sickened, while in her the warm blood leaped.  He wanted everything; she, nothing in the world.  He, the king of men, was the bond; she, the cast-off minion, she, this Jehane Saint-Pol, was the free.  So God, making war upon the great, rights the balances of this world.

But he was extraordinarily gentle with her; he gripped himself and throttled the animal close.  Gaining grace as he went, his heart throve upon its own blood.  Balm was shed on his burning face, he sucked peace as it fell.  Then he, too, discerned the God near by; to him, too, came with beating wings the pure young Love, that best of all, which hath no needs save them of spending.

His voice was hushed to a boy’s murmur.

‘Jehane, ma mye, is it true?’

‘I am the mother of a son,’ she said.

‘Give God the glory!’

But she said, ‘He hath given it to me.’  Her face was turned to where God might be:  Richard, looking down, kissed her on the mouth.  Tremblingly they kissed and long, not as young lovers, but as spouse and spouse, drinking their common joy.

After a while his present troubles came thronging back, and he said bitterly:  ’Ah, child, thou art widowed of me while yet we both live.  Yet it was in thy power to be mother of a king.’