And so, almost before she knew it, Alys and the old serving woman had put on her soft, fine linen and a shot-silver robe, looped up with a silver chain, and dressed her hair nobly. Over her neck and shoulders, no longer smoothly full like her own, this countess fastened a sort of cape of lace and silver, and on her feet the old woman fitted pointed velvet shoes. She watched them gravely, tingling still from that strange bath, trying to shape out in her mind what she would say to lead them to explain to her the place she had fallen upon, and why they played this pretty jest, and spoke and dressed so quaintly.
Now the Countess touched a silver bell and the old woman drew a heavy curtain before the bath and the daïs and placed a carved chair, and when Alys had led her to it, the same youth appeared with a tray in his hand, holding fine wheat bread and a graceful flagon of rosy wine and a fragment of honeycomb. He knelt before her, seriously, with eyes never raised above his silken knees, but his very presence moved her strangely and she put her hand softly on his head when he said, "Will you eat, madam, and refresh yourself?" and hastened to taste of all on his tray before he could be offended.
"And now, Alys, where is your mistress?" she said, when her strength was stayed and her eyes and voice bright again with the comforting wine, "for I must talk with her."
"Presently, madam, presently," said the girl, "none may speak with her at the moment, for she is gone to Mass—'tis the Count's name-day and the night, too, when God and St. Michael took him, fighting, and we have been out all day for holly for the chapel. We are all to go—will you come with us?"
"No," she said, thinking to make her way out when they were all gone and find out where this wild tract could be, "no, I will wait here. I am not of your religion, Alys."
The girl sprang back from her with frightened eyes and crossed herself.
"Madam!" she cried, "never speak so! If they thought a Moslem here—and to-night—hush, there go the men!"
There was a great tramping, and along the tapestries, before the drawn curtain, came a company of men-at-arms, clanking in full armour, with set, hard faces under the helmets.
She grasped at the arms of her oak chair wildly; these harsh men sent a chill through her—was some horrid treachery thus hinted to her? Then as Alys sped along behind them she felt her hand kissed softly and the little page-boy was there.
"There is none to hurt you—if you stay quiet here," he said softly, and she knew she dared not move or spy about.