"Marguerite," I said, an hour or two later, "dost thou think I love myself?"
"My Damoiselle does not think herself a fool," quietly answered the old woman.
"No, of course not," said I; "I know I have brains. How can I help it? But dost thou think I love myself,—better than I love other people?"
"We all love either ourselves or the good God."
"But we can love both."
Marguerite shook her head. "Ha!—no. That would be serving two masters. And the good God Himself says no one can do that."
I did not like this much better. So, after I finished my beads, I kissed the crucifix, and I said,—"Sir God, show me whether I love myself." Because,—though I do not like it,—yet, perhaps, if I do, it is best to know it.
We reached Ascalon a week ago, making three short days' journey of it, so as not to over-fatigue the little ones. Those of us who have come are Guy and Lady Sybil, myself, Amaury and Eschine, and the little girls, Agnes and Héloïse. I brought Marguerite and Bertrade only to wait on me. Lady Isabel prefers to stay at Hebron, which is only one day's journey from the Holy City. She and Messire Homfroy quarrelled violently about it, for he wished to go to Acre, and wanted her to accompany him; but in the end, as usual, she had her own way, and he will go to Acre, and she to Hebron.
The night before we set forth, as I was passing Lady Judith's door, her low voice said—
"Helena, my child, wilt thou come in here? I want a word with thee."