“Thou knowest me then,” said the pretended monk, in a tone of bitter reproach, rising and throwing off his gray friar’s gown and cowl. “I thought myself forgotten by all my father’s house.”
“’Tis our uncle Henry,” said Thibaut, amazed and chagrined at this transformation of his newly discovered hermit.
“And hast thou then doubted the affection of Adela?” said his sister.
“It were not strange that I should doubt the love of one leagued with my foes,” replied the prince sorrowfully.
“How leagued with thy foes?” inquired the countess in great surprise.
“Thou surely dost not mock me,” said Henry marking the tears trembling on her eyelids. “Thy countenance bespeaks thy sincerity. Have I then been the dupe, as well as the prey of my designing brothers?”
“If thou hast distrusted the love of Adela, yes,” replied his sister, “but come thou with me. My lord awaits us at the castle of Blois. He shall investigate thy cause and redress thy wrongs.”
“Come with us, dear uncle,” reiterated the children observing his hesitation.
“Yield thyself, rescue or no rescue,” said the young Stephen balancing a stick as a lance, and leading off the prince in triumph.
“And hast thou not heard of the siege of St. Michael’s Mount?” said Henry as he rode by the side of his sister, at the head of the cavalcade.