But Beltane, falling before her on his knee spake quick and passionate:
"O Helen—Helen the Beautiful! without thee I had been nought, and less than nought! Without thee, Pentavalon had groaned yet 'neath cruel wrong! Without thee—O without thee, my Helen, I were a thing lost and helpless in very truth!"
Now hereupon, being first and foremost a woman, young and loving and passionate, needs must she weep over him a little and stoop to cherish his golden head on her bosom, and holding it thus sweetly pillowed, to kiss him full oft and thereafter loose him and blush and sigh and turn from his regard, all sweet and shy demureness like the very maid she was.
Whereat Beltane, forgetful of all but her loveliness, heedful of nought in the world but her warm young beauty, rose up from his knees and, trembling-mute with love, would have caught her to his eager arms; but of a sudden cometh Giles, breathless—hasting up the narrow stair and, all heedless of his lord, runneth to fling himself upon his knees before the Duchess, to catch her robe and kiss it oft.
"O dear and gracious lady!" he cried, "Genevra hath told me! And is it true thou hast promised me a place within thy court at fair Mortain—is it true thou wilt lift me up that I may wed with one so much o'er me in station—is it true thou wilt give me my Genevra, my heart's desire— all unworthy though I be—I—O—" And behold! Giles's ready tongue faltered for very gratitude and on each tanned cheek were bright, quick-falling tears.
"Giles," said she, "thou wert true and faithful to my lord when his friends were few, so methinks thou should'st be faithful and true to thy sweet Genevra—so will I make thee Steward and Bailiff of Mortain an my lord is in accord—"
"Lord," quoth Giles brokenly, "ere thou dost speak, beseech thee hear this. I have thought on thy saying regarding my past days—and grieved sorely therefore. Now an ye do think my shameful past beyond redemption, if these arms be too vile to clasp her as my wife, if my love shall bring her sorrow or shame hereafter, then—because I do truly love her—I will see her no more; I will—leave her to love one more worthy than I. And this I do swear thee, master—on the cross!"
Quoth Beltane:
"Giles, he that knoweth himself unworthy, if that his love be a true love, shall by that love make himself, mayhap, worthier than most. He that loveth so greatly that in his love base self is forgot—such a man, methinks, doth love in God-like fashion. So shall it be as my lady hath said."
Then Giles arose, and wiping off his tears strove to speak his thanks but choked upon a sob instead, and turning, hasted down the turret stair.