"To tell the justices that wizards are lodging in our house very much against our will."
The lady smiled.
"I," said she, "am the Comtesse de Mahaut," and she rose with a dignity that took the man's breath away. "Beware of bringing the smallest trouble on your guests. Above all, respect the old man; I have seen him in the company of your Lord the King, who entreated him courteously; you will be ill advised to trouble him in any way. As to my having been here—never breathe a word of it, as you value your life."
She said no more, but relapsed into thought.
Presently she looked up, signed to Jacqueline, and together they went up into Godefroid's room. The fair Countess looked at the bed, the carved chairs, the chest, the tapestry, the table, with a joy like that of the exile who sees on his return the crowded roofs of his native town nestling at the foot of a hill.
"If you have not deceived me," she said to Jacqueline, "I promise you a hundred crowns in gold."
"Behold, madame," said the woman, "the poor angel is confiding—here is all his treasure."
As she spoke, Jacqueline opened a drawer in the table and showed some parchments.
"God of mercy!" cried the Countess, snatching up a document that caught her eye, on which she read, Gothofredus Comes Gantiacus (Godefroid, Count of Ghent).
She dropped the parchment, and passed her hand over her brow; then, feeling, no doubt, that she had compromised herself by showing so much emotion, she recovered her cold demeanor.