"Master Karvel, here are Dame Giraude, her brother and her son! They are carrying in their arms a young girl in a faint."
CHAPTER II.
GIRAUDE OF LAVAUR.
Just as the Perfect is about to step out of the chamber in which he and his wife Morise were discussing the prospects of Mylio, and to render assistance to the guests that were announced, Aimery, his sister Giraude and her son enter, carrying in Florette in a swoon. The Lady of Lavaur and her brother hold the young girl in their arms. Aloys, a lad of fourteen, holds her feet. Florette is gently deposited upon a couch of woven straw. While Morise runs into another room for a cordial, Karvel takes the sweet girl's pulse. Her dusty clothes and tattered shoes reveal that she walked a long distance. Her forehead is bathed in perspiration. Her face is pale, her respiration troubled.
The Lady of Lavaur, her brother and son group themselves near the couch and await silent and uneasy the words from the lips of the physician. Giraude, who is of the same age as Morise and of striking beauty, is modestly dressed in a robe of green material. An orange-colored coif, from which hangs a white veil that partially covers her face, exposes her two heavy tresses of black hair. Her large and gentle blue eyes, now moistened with a tear, rest upon Florette, whom she contemplates with tender interest.
Aimery is forty years of age, and is dressed in field laborer's clothes—a broad-brimmed felt hat, a blouse held around his waist by a leather belt, a cloth coat and heavy leather boots. His open, comely, and resolute physiognomy depicts deep concern in the girl's condition.
Aloys, who is as rustically clad as his mother's brother, strikingly resembles his parent. The only marked difference is that his youthful face, in contrast to his mother's, is slightly browned by the sun. The education that his mother gives him is intended to inure the lad to manly and useful work, and to cultivate in him a taste for the same. The boy's eyes are filled with tears as he contemplates Florette, into whose mouth the physician pours a cordial by introducing the head of a little flask between her lips. The group presents the picture of charming benevolence.
The Lady of Lavaur (holding up Florette's head, speaks in a low voice to the Perfect and Aimery:)—"Poor child! She does not yet regain consciousness! How pale she is! What a sweet and charming face she has!"
Aimery—"The face of an angel, friend Karvel! What do you think can be the cause of her swoon? Do you think she is in danger?"
Karvel—"I see no trace of a fall or of a wound. The poor girl must have experienced some severe shock, or she may have succumbed to excessive fatigue. (Turning to his wife) Morise, fetch me some fresh water."