Richard’s head was up.  ‘Peace, hound,’ he said, and the Marquess snarled like an old dog; but Philip, with a quivering lip, put out his hand till it touched Richard’s shoulder.  ‘I must hear it, Richard,’ he said.  Richard put his arm round the lad’s neck:  so the Marquess told his story.  At the end of it Richard dared look down into Philip’s marred eyes.  Then he kissed his forehead, and ‘Oh, Philip,’ says he, ’let him who is hardy enough to tell this tale believe it, and let us who hear it do as we must.  But now you understand why I made an end of Saint-Pol, and why, by heaven and earth, I will make an end of this brass pot.’  He turned upon Montferrat with his teeth bare.  ‘Conrad, Conrad, Conrad!’ he cried terribly, ’mark your goings about this slippery world; for if when I get you alone I do not send you quick into hell, may I go down myself beyond redemption of the Church!’

‘That you will surely do, my lord,’ says the Marquess of Montferrat, greatly disturbed.

’If I get you there also I shall be reasonably entertained for a short time,’ Richard answered, already cooled and ashamed of his heat.  Then King Philip dismissed the Marquess, and as soon as he was rid of him jumped into Richard’s arms, and cried his heart away.

Richard, who was fond of the youth, comforted him as well as he was able, but on one point was a rock.  He would not hear the word ‘marriage’ until he had seen the lady.  ’Oh, Richard, marry her quick, marry her quick!  So we can face the world,’ the young King had blubbered, thinking that course the simplest answer to the affront upon his house.  It did not seem so simple to the Count, or (rather) it seemed too simple by half.  In his private mind he knew perfectly well that he could not marry Madame Alois.  So, for that matter, did King Philip by this time.  ’I must see Alois, Philip, I must see her alone,’ was all Richard had to say; and really it could not be gainsaid.

He went to her after proper warning, and saw the truth the moment he had view of her.  Then also he knew that he had really seen it before.  That white, furtive, creeping girl, from whose loose hair peered out a pair of haunted eyes; that drooped thing backing against the wall, feeling for it, flat against it, with open shocked mouth, astare but seeing nothing:  the whole truth flared before him monstrously naked.  He loathed the sight of her, but had to speak her smoothly.

‘Princess—­’ he said, and came forward to touch her hand; but she slipped away from him, crouching to the wall.  The torment of breath in her bosom was bad to see.

‘Touch me not, Count of Poictou;’ she whispered the words, and then moaned, ‘O God, what will become of me?’

‘Madame,’ said Richard, rather dry, ’God may answer your question, since He knows all things, but certainly I cannot, unless you first tell me what has hitherto become of you.’

She steadied herself by the wall, her palms flat upon it, and leaned her body forward like one who searches in a dark place.  Then, shaking her head, she let it fall to her breast.  ’Is there any sorrow like my sorrow?’ says she to herself, as though he had not been there.