Darius, Jeshua, or Charlemaigne,—
Wheedle and bribe and surfeit Death in vain,
And get no grace of him nor any love.
“Incuriously he smites the armored king
And tricks his counsellors—”
“True, O God!” murmured the tiny woman, who sat beside the window yonder. With that, Dame Meregrett rose, and passed from the room.
The two lovers started, and laughed, and afterward paid little heed to her outgoing. Sire Edward had put aside the lute and sat now regarding the Princess. His big left hand propped the bearded chin; his grave countenance was flushed, and his intent eyes shone under their shaggy brows, very steadily, although the left eye was now so nearly shut as to reveal the merest spark.
Irresolutely, Dame Blanch plucked at her gown; then rearranged a fold of it, and with composure awaited the ensuing action, afraid at bottom, but not at all ill-pleased; and she looked downward.
The King said: “Never before were we two alone, madame. Fate is very gracious to me this morning.”
“Fate,” the lady considered, “has never denied much to the Hammer of the Scots.”