“Many years are passed since these things happened; yet they have not faded from my memory, nor have they from that of my lord. Up to the time of thy coming, madame, he mourned for her always; nor did he abstain from asking forgiveness of Heaven for her end.”
“Ah, Alixe, he hath not yet ceased to mourn for her. Alas! I cannot fill her place for him. He is uncomforted. How sad, how terrible her end, within the very sight of him she loved! Tell me, Alixe, was she very fair?”
“Not, methinks, so fair as thou, madame. Yet she was beautiful to look on, with her dark hair and her pale, clear skin, and her mouth redder than a rose in June. Her eyes were dark—like shadowy stars. And her ways were gentle—gay—tender—anything to fit her mood. Ah! I am wounding thee!”
Poor Lenore’s head was bent a little farther down, and by her shoulders her companion knew that she wept. Alixe would have given much to bring some comfort for the pain she had unintentionally roused. But in the presence of the unhappy wife, she sat uneasy and abashed, powerless to bring solace to that tortured heart.
While the two sat there, in this silence, the storm, which had lulled a little, broke out afresh with such a flash and roar as caused even Alixe to cower back where she was. There was a fierce tumult of new rain and howling wind, and in the midst of it a sudden great clamoring at the Castle door, and the faint sound of a horse neighing outside. Alixe sprang up, and, thinking only of giving shelter to some storm-driven stranger, unbarred the door. As it flew open before the storm, a man was hurled into the room, in a furious gush of water; and when the lantern-light fell upon his haggard face, Lenore gave a cry that was half a sob, and rushed upon him, clasping his arms,—
“Courtoise! Courtoise! How fares my lord?”
Courtoise gazed down upon her, and did not speak. In his face was such a look of suffering as none had ever seen before upon it.
“Courtoise!” she cried again, this time with a new note in her voice. “Courtoise!—my lord!—speak to me! speak—how fares my lord?”
But still, though she clung to him, Courtoise made no reply.
