thought within himself, “I have promised Madame de Saint-Pol that I will never strive with her in love; and I will not.  Now must I promise Almighty God that, in her life, I will not strive so at all.”  Alas, Madame, and alas!  Here the King was too strong for the girl; here her own nobility rose up against her.  Pity her, not blame her; and for the King—­I dare to say it—­find pity as well as blame.  All those who love his high heart, his crowned head, find pity for him in theirs.  For many there are who do better, having no occasion to do as ill; but there can be none who mean better, for none have such great motions.’

Milo might have spared his breath.  The Queen had heard one phrase of all his speech, and during the rest had pondered that.  When he had done, she said, ‘Fetch me in this lady.  I would speak with her.’

‘Breast shall touch breast here,’ said Milo to himself, full of hope, ‘and mouth meet mouth.  Courage, old heart.’

When the tall girl was brought in Queen Berengere did not look at her, nor make any response to her deep reverence; but bade her fetch a mirror from the table.  In this she looked at herself steadily for some time, smoothing and coiling back her hair, arranging her neck-covering so as to show something of her bosom, and so on.  She sent Jehane for boxes of unguent, her colour-boxes, brush for the eyebrows, powder for the face.  Finally she had brought to her a little crown of diamonds, and set it in her hair.  After patting her head and turning it about and about, she put the glass down and made a long survey of Jehane.

‘They do well,’ she said, ’who call you sulky:  you have a sulky mouth.  I allow your shape; but there are reasons for that.  You are very tall; you have a long throat.  Green eyes are my detestation—­fie, turn them from me.  Your hair is wonderful, and your skin.  I suppose women of the North are so commonly.  Come nearer.’  Jehane obeying, the Queen touched her neck, then her cheek.  ‘Show me your teeth,’ she said.  ’They are strong and good, but much larger than mine.  Your hands are big, and so are your ears; you do well to cover them.  Let me see your foot.’  She peeped over the edge of the bed; Jehane put her foot out.  ’It is not so large as I expected,’ said the Queen, ‘but much larger than mine.’  Then she sighed and threw herself back.  ’You are certainly a very tall girl.  And twenty-three years old?  I am not twenty yet, and have had fifty lovers.  The Abbot of Poictiers said you were beautiful.  Do you think yourself so?’

‘It is not my part to think of it, Madame,’ said Jehane, holding herself rather stiffly.

‘You mean that you know it too well,’ said Berengere.  ’I suppose it is true.  You have a fine colour and a fine person—­but that is a woman’s.  Now look at me carefully, and say how you find me.  Put your hand here, and here, and here.  Touch my hair; look well at my eyes.  My hair reaches to my knees when I stand up, to the floor when I sit down.  I am a king’s daughter.  Do you not think me beautiful?’