"His chivalry! Now G.o.d defend! Methinks You are too daring. What of mine, forsooth?"

"I long have told you that I thought your strength Was worthy finer service. You well know I like not tournaments that waste the land By useless bloodshed; but, my Torm, you are Your own adviser, so I say no more.

Bend down and kiss me, Torm, before you go; Pray be not wroth with Gwendolaine, my lord."

"Kiss you I will, if you can tell me true You will not see that coward knight to-day."

Back drew she from his breast, and said in scorn, "I know not whom you mean, my lord Sir Torm."

"Tell me no lies," said Torm; "I mean Sanpeur."

"Sanpeur, the fearless knight, a coward!--_he_?

What, think you, would your great King Constantine Say to your daring slander? Sir Sanpeur Is the unquestioned Launcelot at court; The King rests on him with unfailing trust In every valiant deed and feat of arms."

She drew her beauty to its fullest height, And swept him with her eyes. "Fear not for me, Sir Torm. Sanpeur, alas! is too engrossed With duties for his Master, Jesu Christ, And for his lord, the King, to loiter here With any woman, howe'er fair she be."

Torm laughed a quick and scornful laugh, that made The heart of Gwendolaine beat fast and fierce Against its sound in spirit of revolt.

"Pray who was coward when Sanpeur refused In open court to joust with Dinadan?"

"You know, my, lord, the reason that he gave."

"Ha, ha! some empty boast of holy day, And prayers, and fasting, and such foolery."

"And who, my lord," she said in sudden scorn, "Unhorsed once, years ago, the brave Sir Torm, Who never was unhorsed by knight before?"

The hot blood flushed his heavy-bearded face; His loud voice vibrated with rising wrath.

"So your fine, fearless knight of chivalry Has won his way to your most wifely heart By boasting of his prowess! By my sword!

That is a knightly virtue in all truth."

"It did not need, Sir Torm, that he should tell The story that was waiting for your bride In every prattling mouth about the court.

Had it been so, she never would have heard; It lies with petty souls alone to boast, Not with the royal soul of Sir Sanpeur."

"Now, by the blessed Mother of our Lord!

Methinks you love this valiant knight, Sanpeur."

"And if I did," she cried, her soul aglow With exultation of defense of him, "It well might be my glory; for there lives No knight so stainless and so pure as he."

"Peace, wanton!" said Sir Torm. "It is your shame!"

And lifting his strong heavy mailed hand, He struck the lovely face of Gwendolaine, And went out cursing.

Motionless she leaned Against the window mullion, where she reeled, White as the pearls she wore; and love for Torm-- The thing that she had nourished and called love-- Fell dead within her, murdered by his blow.

And in her heart true love arose at last for Sir Sanpeur, proclaiming need of him;-- A love, for many days hushed and suppressed By wifely loyalty, now well awake, With conscious sense of immortality.

Half dazed, she swiftly to her chamber went, Stopped not to wipe the blood from her pale cheek; Dropped off, in haste, her brilliant robe, and donned A russet gown she kept for merry plays, And, wrapping o'er her head a wimple, dark As her dark gown, crept down the castle steps.

The va.s.sals looked at her askance; she drew Her wimple closer, and deceived their gaze, Until the gate of Tormalot was pa.s.sed, And she was out upon the lonely moor.

Onward she went, too wrenched with pain and wrath To fear, or wonder at her fearlessness.

The knight Sanpeur was on his battlements, Silvered with light from the full summer moon, And heard his seneschal with loud replies Denying entrance, as his orders were; He would be left alone and undisturbed With memory and thought of Gwendolaine.

"What sweetness infinite beneath the ebb And flow of moods," he said, half audibly; "What truth beneath her laughter and her mirth!

I ask but that her nature be fulfilled, That is enough for me; it matters not If I may only see her from afar.

My love was sent to vivify her life, Not to imperil, and to make no claim Of her but her unfolding; to remind Her soul of its immortal heritage, And teach her joy,--she knew but merriment.

And this, meseems, it hath done, Christ be praised.

Her soul a.s.serts itself through her gay life, And joy pervades her,--she is radiant.

How wonderful she looked, last night, at Camelot!

She moved in glowing beauty like a star."

And with the vision of her in his heart, In all the splendour of her state and pride, In golden-threaded samite strewn with pearls, He turned, in the quick pacing of his walk, And faced her in her simple russet gown, Her hair unbound, and blowing in the wind, Her cheeks as colourless as white May flowers, Save on the one a deep and crimson stain.

"My G.o.d!" he cried, and caught her as she fell.

She told the story of her bitter wrong In poignant words of pa.s.sionate disdain.

"And I have come straightway to you, Sanpeur,-- Having more faith in your true love for me Than any woman ever had before In love of man, or chivalry of knight,-- To tell you that I love you more than life.

Long have I loved you, well I know it now, Although I knew it not, until this blow Stamped it in blood upon my mind and soul.

I rose this morn resolved to be more true To your high thought of womanhood, and wife, To bear with Torm more patiently, and strive To make my life more worthy of your love; And then,--G.o.d help me,--my resolve was crushed By Torm's fierce hand, and love for you set free.

Yea, now my heart is sure,--beyond all doubt, Beyond all question and all fear of men,-- That I, for ever, love you utterly.

Take me, beloved, I am yours, I want, I need, I pant, I tremble for your care.

O meet me not so coldly! I shall die If you repulse me; I have come so far And fast, without a fear,--I loved you so,-- To seek the blessed shelter of your arms.

My brain is dizzy, and my senses fail; For G.o.d's sake tell me you are glad I came To you--and only you--in my despair."

He took her hands, full tenderly, and said,-- His eyes alone embracing her the while,-- "Beloved Gwendolaine, loved far above All women on the earth, loved with a love That words would but conceal, were they essayed, Soul of my soul, and spirit of myself, If I am cold, you know it is in truth A cold that burns more deeply than all fire.

Deep-stirred am I that you could trust me so, And you will trust me yet, dear, when I say You must go back to your brave lord, Sir Torm."

"Back to Sir Torm!" she said, in a half dream.

"O Blessed Virgin, Mother of the Christ!

Save me and keep me from the bitter shame Of such humiliation to my soul."

"No deed done for the right, my Gwendolaine, Can bring humiliation to a soul.

Sir Torm has loved you long and loyally--"

"He knows not how to love," she said in scorn.

"He knows his way, and in it loves you well; Your wit and beauty are his chiefest pride; He would refuse you nothing you could ask To gratify your pleasure and desire.

He brought you from a narrow, hidden lot, To share with you his honours at the court.

You will not let all that be wiped away By one swift deed of anger, which Sir Torm Has bitterly repented and bewailed Full long ere this; of that you are right sure, Because you know his loving heart's rebound."

"To live with him, Sanpeur, would now be death."

"Naught can bring death to immortality But sin,--and life with me, my Gwendolaine, Would be the death of all we hold most high."

"Jesu have mercy! Sanpeur casts me off; He does not love me! I have dreamed it all."

Sanpeur said almost sternly, "Gwendolaine, Unsay that; it is false! You know full well How far I love you above thought of self; If I half loved you, I would fold you close."

"It is unsaid, Sanpeur; but woe is me That I should fall so far from my estate To plead in vain with any man, howe'er He love; where is my pride, my boasted pride?"

"'Tis in my heart, if anywhere, my love."

"I can not go, Sanpeur. Torm forfeited His right to loyalty by cruelty."