Courtoise bowed, wearing an expression of mingled pleasure and disapproval, and presently he and the herald left the room together, followed by all the young esquires. After their disappearance the demoiselles also wandered off to their pursuits, and presently Gerault, Eleanore, and Lenore were left alone in the long room. Eleanore stood still, just where she was, and looked once, searchingly, from the face of her son to that of his wife. Then she addressed Gerault: “See that thou come to me to-night, when I am alone in my chamber. I would talk with thee, Gerault.” And with another look that had in it a suggestion of disdain, madame turned and went out of the room.
When she was gone the knight drew a long sigh, and then, with an air of apprehensive inquiry, faced Lenore. At once she rose and, with a very humble courtesy, started also to depart. But Gerault, whose bewilderment at the situation was changing to anxiety, said sharply: “Stay, Lenore! Thou shalt not go till we have spoken together.”
Immediately she returned to her place and sat down. She gave him one swift glance from under her lashes, and then remained in silence, her eyes fixed upon the floor.
At the same time the Seigneur got to his feet and began to pace unevenly up and down the room. His step was sufficient evidence of his agitation; but it was many minutes before he suddenly halted, turning to his wife and saying in a tone of command: “Tell me, Lenore, why thou biddest me go forth into this tournament.”
“Ah, my lord—do not—I—” she paused, and, from flushing vividly, her face grew white again: “Thou wilt be happier in Rennes, my lord.”
“How say you that? Were I not happier at home here with my bride?”
“Asks my lord wherefore?” answered Lenore, in a tone containing something that Gerault could not understand.
“Nay, then, I ask thee naught but this: wouldst thou, all for thyself, of thine own will, have me go? Dost thou in thy heart desire it?”
Lenore drew her head a little high, and looked him full in the face: “For myself, for mine own selfish desires, of mine own will, I entreat thee by that which through thy life thou hast held most dear, to go!”
Gerault stared at her, some vague distrust that was entering his mind continually foiled by the open-eyed clearness of her look. Finally, then, he shrugged his shoulders, and, as he turned away from her, he said: “Be satisfied, madame. I do your bidding. I give you what pleasure I can. In ten days’ time I shall set off; and thou wilt be unfettered in this Crépuscule!”