And away he went, whistling a troubadour song.
Nothing to cry about! Yes, that was all he knew.
I went to my own chamber, sent Bertrade out of it, and finished my cry. Then I washed my face, and when I thought all traces were gone, I went down to my embroidery.
Lady Judith was alone in the bower. She looked up with her usual kind smile as I took the seat opposite. But the smile gave way in an instant to a graver look. Ah! she saw all was not right.
I was silent, and went on working. But in a minute, without any warning, Lady Judith was softly singing. The words struck me.
"'Art thou weary, art thou languid,
Art thou sore distressed?
'Come to Me,' saith One, 'and, coming,
Be at rest.'
"'Hath He marks to lead me to Him,
If He be my Guide?'
'In His feet and hands are wound-prints,
And His side.'
"'Is there diadem, as monarch,
That His brow adorns?'
'Yea, a crown, in very surety,
But of thorns.'
"If I find Him, if I follow,
What His guerdon here?'
'Many a sorrow, many a labour,
Many a tear.'
"'If I still hold closely to Him,
What hath He at last?'
'Sorrow vanquished, labour ended,
Jordan past.'
"'If I ask Him to receive me,
Will He say me nay?'
'Not till earth, and not till heaven,
Pass away.'"
"Oh! Your pardon, holy Mother, for interrupting you," said Damoiselle Melisende, coming in some haste; "but the Lady Queen sent me to ask when the Lady Sybil's tunic will be finished."
Her leaves are finished, but not my roses, nor Lady Judith's gold diapering. I felt much obliged to her, for something in the hymn had so touched me that the tears were very near my eyes again. Lady Judith answered that she thought it would be done to-morrow; and Melisende ran off again.
"Hast thou heard that hymn before, Helena?" said Lady Judith, busy with the diaper.
"Never, holy Mother," said I, as well as I could.