All the while the lady sat still on the couch, with an expression of amused contempt on her face.  But now she rose to her feet.

“And I also ask, in the name of the King of France, by what right do you intrude within the precincts of a lady’s bower.  I bid you to leave me!”

She pointed imperiously with her white finger to the black, oblong doorway, from which Malise’s rude hand had dragged the covering flap to the ground.

But the churchman and his guide stood their ground.

Suddenly the Abbot reached a hand and took the sword on which the master armourer leaned.  With its point he drew a wide circle upon the rich carpets which formed the floor of the pavilion.

“William Douglas,” he said, “I command you to come within this circle, whilst in the right of my holy office I exorcise that demon there who hath so nearly beguiled you to your ruin.”

The lady laughed a rich ringing laugh.

“These are indeed high heroics for so plain and poor an occasion.  I need not to utter a word of explanation.  I am a lady travelling peaceably under escort of an ambassador of France, through a Christian country.  By chance, I met the Earl Douglas, and invited him to sup with me.  What concern, spiritual or temporal, may that be of yours, most reverend Abbot?  Who made you my lord Earl’s keeper?”

“Woman or demon from the pit!” said the Abbot, sternly, “think not to deceive William Douglas, the aged, as you have cast the glamour over William Douglas, the boy.  The lust of the flesh abideth no more for ever in this frail tabernacle.  I bid thee, let the lad go, for he is dear to me as mine own soul.  Let him go, I say, ere I curse thee with the curse of God the Almighty!”

The lady continued to smile, standing meantime slender and fair before them, her bosom heaving a little with emotion, and her hair rippling in red gold confusion down her back.

“Certainly, my lord Earl came not upon compulsion.  He is free to return with you, if he yet be under tutors and governors, or afraid of the master’s stripes.  Go, Earl William, I made a mistake; I thought you had been a man.  But since I was wrong I bid you get back to the monk’s chapter house, to clerkly copies and childish toys.”

Then black and sullen anger glared from the eyes of the Douglas.

“Get hence,” he cried.  “Hence, both of you—­you, Uncle William, ere I forget your holy office and your kinsmanship; you, Malise, that I may settle with to-morrow ere the sun sets.  I swear it by my word as a Douglas.  I will never forgive either of you for this night’s work!”

The fair white hand was laid upon his wrist.

“Nay,” said the lady, “do not quarrel with those you love for my poor sake.  I am indeed little worth the trouble.  Go back with them in peace, and forget her who but sat by your side an hour neither doing you harm nor thinking it.”

“Nay,” he cried, “that will I not.  I will show them that I am old enough to choose my company for myself.  Who is my uncle that he should dictate to me that am an earl of Douglas and a peer of France, or my servant that he should come forth to spy upon his master?”