"O Marguerite!" said I. "That may be an early death."
"That would be the best of all, my Damoiselle.[#] Ah! the eyes of a noble maiden of seventeen years see not so far as the eyes of a villein woman of seventy. There are good things in this world—I do not deny it. But the best thing is surely to be safe above this world,—safe with the good Lord."
[#] It would have been well for Héloïse, who bears a spotted reputation in history.
"I do not want to lose my baby, Margot," said Eschine, with a rather sad smile.
"Ah no, Dame, you do not," replied Marguerite, answering the smile with a brighter one. "But if the good Lord should call her, it is best to let her rise and go to Him."
Again we hear something more of those strange rumours, as though the people were not content under Guy's government. But what does it signify? They are only villeins. Yet villeins can insult nobles, no doubt. Sister Eudoxia (who was here again yesterday) says they actually talk of a petition to the King, to entreat him to displace Guy, and set some one else in his stead. The thought of their presuming to have an idea on the question! As if they could understand anything about government! Discontented under Guy! my Guy! They are nothing better than rebels. They ought to be put down, and kept down.
The Lady Queen has received a letter from her kindred at Byzantium, from which she hears that the young Byzantine Cæsar, who is but a child, has been wedded to a daughter of the Lord King of France. Dame Agnes is her name, and she is but eight years old.
I wonder if it is very, very wicked to hate people? Old Marguerite will have it that it is just as bad as murder, and that the holy Evangel says so. I am sure she must have listened wrong. For I do hate Count Raymond of Tripoli. And I can't help it. I must and will hate him. He has won Guy's ear completely, and Guy sees through his eyes. I cannot bear him, the fawning, handsome scoundrel—I am sure he is one! They say, too, that he is not over good to his wife, for I am sorry to say he has a wife; I pity her, poor creature!
Lady Judith asked me, when I repeated this, who "they" were.
"I do not know, holy Mother," said I; "every body, I suppose."