This Gurdun, pricking through the woods, came upon Gaston of Bearn, dazzling as a spring tree and singing like an inspired machine.  He pulled up at the wonderful sight, and scowled.  It is the proper Norman greeting.  Gaston treated him as part of the landscape, like the rest of it mournful, but provocative of song.

‘Give you good-day, beau sire,’ said Gilles; Gaston waved his hand and went on singing at the top of his voice.  Then Gilles, who was pressed, tried to pass; and Gaston folded his arms.

‘Ha, beef,’ said he, ‘none pass here but the brave.’

‘Out, parrot,’ quoth Gilles, and plunged through the wood.

Because of Gaston’s vow there was no blood shed at the moment, but he had hopes that he might be released in time.  ‘There goes a dead man,’ was therefore his comment before he resumed.

But Jehane, when she heard the horse, ran out to meet his rider.  Her face was alight.  ‘Come in, come in,’ she said, and took him by the hand.  He followed her with a beating heart, neither daring nor knowing how to say anything.  She led him into the little dark chapel.

‘Gilles, Gilles,’ she said panting, ‘do you love me, Gilles?’

He was hoarse, could hardly speak for the crack in his throat.  ‘O God,’ he said under his breath, ‘O God, Jehane, how I love you!’

Here, because of a certain flicker in her eyes, he made forward; but she put out her two hands the length of her arms and fenced him off.  ’No, no, Gilles, not yet.’  Pain sharpened her voice.  ’Listen first to me.  I do not love you; but I am frightened.  Some one is coming; you must be here to help me.  I give myself to you—­I will be yours—­I must—­there is no other way.’

She stopped; you could have heard the thudding of her heart.

‘Give then,’ said Gilles with a croak, and took her.

She felt herself engulfed in a sea of fire, but set her teeth and endured the burning of that death.  The poor fellow did but kiss her once or twice, and kissed no closer than the Angevin; but the grace is one that goes by favour.  Gilles, nevertheless, took primer seisin and was content.  Afterwards, hand in hand, trembling each, the possessed and the possessing, they stood before the twinkling lamp which hinted at the Son of God, and waited what must happen.

In about half an hour’s time Jehane heard the long padding tread she knew so well, and took a deep breath.  Next Gilles heard something.

‘One comes.  Who comes?’ he said whispering.

‘Richard of Anjou.  I need you now.’

‘Do you want me to—?’ Gilles honestly thought he was to kill the Count.  She undeceived him soon.

‘To kill Richard, Gilles?  Nay, man, he is not for your killing.’  She gave a short laugh, not very pleasant for her lover to hear.  But Gilles, for all that, put hand to hilt.  The Count of Poictou stooped at the entry and saw them together.