Therewith I set out my tablier and the dice. Then I filled up the cup afresh, pretending to drink, and laid on the foul table a great shining heap of gold. Their dull eyes shone like the metal when I said—
“Myself will be judge and umpire; play ye, honest fellows, for I crave no gains from you. Only, a cup for luck!”
They camped at the table, all the five of them, and some while their greed kept them wakeful, and they called the mains, but their drought kept them drinking. And, one by one, their heads fell heavy on the table, or they sprawled on their stools, and so sank on to the floor, so potent were the poppy and mandragora of the leech in Tours.
At last they were all sound on sleep, one man’s hand yet clutching a pile of my gold that now and again would slip forth and jingle on the stone floor.
Now all this time she had never stirred, but lay as she had lain, her face downwards, her arms above her neck.
Stealthily I took the chain and the key from about the neck of the sleeping lourdaud, and then drew near her on tiptoe.
I listened, and, from her breathing, I believe that she slept, as extreme labour and weariness and sorrow do sometimes bring their own remede.
Then a thought came into my mind, how I should best awake her, and stooping, I said in her ear—
“Fille Dé!”
Instantly she turned about, and, sitting up, folded her hands as one in prayer, deeming, belike, that she was aroused by the voices of her Saints. I kneeled down beside the bed, and whispered—“Madame, Jeanne, look on my face!”