So that evening Yolande sent for him. She was, as Gogyrvan had said, a remarkably handsome woman, sleek and sumptuous and crowned with a wealth of copper-colored hair. To-night she was at her best in a tunic of shimmering blue, with a surcote of gold embroidery, and with gold embroidered pendent sleeves that touched the floor. Thus she was when Jurgen came to her.
"Now," says Yolande, frowning, "you may as well come out straightforwardly with what you were hinting at this morning."
But first Jurgen looked about the apartment, and it was lighted by a tall gilt stand whereon burned candles.
He counted these, and he whistled. "Seven candles! upon my word, sweetheart, you do me great honor, for this is a veritable illumination. To think of it, now, that you should honor me, as people do saints, with seven candles! Well, I am only mortal, but none the less I am Jurgen, and I shall endeavor to repay this sevenfold courtesy without discount."
"Oh, Messire de Logreus," cried Dame Yolande, "but what incomprehensible nonsense you talk! You misinterpret matters, for I can assure you I had nothing of that sort in mind. Besides, I do not know what you are talking about."
"Indeed, I must warn you that my actions often speak more unmistakably than my words. It is what learned persons term an idiosyncrasy."
"—And I certainly do not see how any of the saints can be concerned in this. If you had said the Four Evangelists now—! For we were talking of the Four Evangelists, you remember, this morning—Oh, but how stupid it is of you, Messire de Logreus, to stand there grinning and looking at me in a way that makes me blush!"
"Well, that is easily remedied," said Jurgen, as he blew out the candles, "since women do not blush in the dark."
"What do you plan, Messire de Logreus?"
"Ah, do not be alarmed!" said Jurgen. "I shall deal fairly with you."