“The absurd creature!” exclaimed Eva, when he was gone. “What an absolute ass he is! He has not an idea in his head.”
“Oh, I beg thy pardon, Eva,” interposed Marie, rather warmly. “He’s plenty of ideas. He’ll talk if one talks to him. Thou never dost.”
“He is clever enough to please thee, very likely!” was the rather snappish answer.
From that evening, Sir John de Averenches took to frequenting the bower occasionally, much to the annoyance of Eva, until the happy thought struck her that she might have captivated him at last. Mentally binding him to her chariot wheels, she made no further objection, but on the contrary, became so amiable that the shrewd little Marie noticed the alteration.
“Well, Eva is queer!” said that acute young lady. “She goes into the sulks if Sir William de Cantilupe so much as looks at any body; but she does not care how many people she looks at! I think she should be jealous on both sides!”
Eva’s amenities, however, seemed to have no more effect on Sir John than her displeasure. Night after night, there he sat, never speaking to any one, and apparently not noticing one more than another.
“He’s going out of his mind,” suggested Marie.
“Not he!” said Eva. “He’s none to go out of!”
The mystery was left unsolved, except by Bruno, who fancied that he guessed its meaning; but since the clue was one which he preferred not to pursue, he discreetly left matters to shape themselves, or rather, to be shaped by Providence, when the time should come.
That was a dreary winter altogether. The King had openly insulted his sister and Montfort, when they made their appearance at the ceremony of the Queen’s “up-rising;” (Churching) and they had left England, pocketing the affront, but as concerned Montfort, by no means forgetting it.