’"No, no, Richard,” said Madame Alois, “all is not nearly said.  So sure as I live in torment, you will rue it if you do not listen to me now.”

’"Madame,” replied the King, “I shall not listen.  I require your silence.  If I have it in me, I command it.  I know what I have done.”

’"You know nothing,” said the lady, beginning to tremble.  “You are a fool.”

’"May be,” said King Richard, with a little shrug, “but I am a king in Fontevrault.”

’The Count of Mortain began to wag his head about and pluck at the morse of his cope.  “Air, air!” he gasped; “I strangle!  I suffocate!” They carried him out of church to his, lodging, and there bled him.

’"Once more, King Richard,” said Madame, “will you hear the truth from me?”

’The king turned fiercely, saying, “Madame, I will hear nothing from you.  My purpose is to take the Cross here in this church, and to set about our Lord’s business as soon as may be.  I urge you, therefore, to depart and, if you have time, to consider your soul’s health—­as I consider mine and my kingdom’s.”

’She began to cry, being overwrought with this terrible affair.  “O Richard,” she said, “forgive me my trespasses.  I am most wretched.”

’He stepped forward, and across the dead man kissed her on the forehead.  “God knows, I forgive thee, Alois,” he said.

’So then she went away with her people, and no long time afterwards took (as I believe) the whole vow in the convent of Fontevrault.’  Thus Milo records a scene too high for me.

When they had buried the old King, Richard sent letters to his brother of France, reminding him of what they had both undertaken to do, namely, to redeem the Sepulchre and set up again in Jerusalem the True Cross.  ‘As for me,’ he wrote, ’I do most earnestly purpose to set about that business as soon as I may; and I require of you, sire and my brother, to witness my resumption of the Cross in this church of Fontevrault upon the feast of Monsire Saint John Baptist next coming.  Let them also who are in your allegiance, the illustrious Duke of Burgundy, Conrad Marquess of Montferrat, and my cousin Count Henry, be of your party and sharers with you in the new vow.’  This done, he went to Chinon to secure his father’s treasure, and then made preparations for his coronation as Count of Anjou, and for Jehane’s coronation.

When she got his word that she was to meet him at Angers by a certain day there was no thought of disobedience; the pouting mouth meant no mutiny.  It meant sickening fear.  In Angers they crown the Count of Anjou with the red cap, and put upon his feet the red shoes.  That would make Richard the Red Count indeed, whose cap and bed the leper had bid her beware.  Beware she might, but how avoid?  She knew Richard by this time for master.  A year ago she had subjugated him in the Dark Tower; but since then he had handled her, moulded her, had but to nod and she served his