“Truly,” she said, “this world is nothing and love is a great deal, and it matters not at all if we be dead or alive if we love–one another.”
Then fair and softly she bent a little towards him and held out her hand, and he took it as if it had been God His robe and pressed his tears upon it, but she the while was smiling.
And so they parted, and he went his way and Jehanne kissed me on the brow and said prayers before the candles, and then to bed silently.
And I had great ruth of all I had seen that night and for the dolorous sorrows of these two, and I wished that two that so loved might have been mated.
So I lay awake listening to the bells and the throstle that now and again moved in the orchard boughs as it came to the dawning. And presently I heard sweet words that came from the chamber of Jehanne Plantagenet.
“Lady Blaunche, Lady Blaunche, have you come for me?”
Then I advised with myself well and was very afraid and sat up in bed, but could by no means speak.
For a long while it was silent, and I rose at last and went into the inner chamber, and it was cool with an Eastern light.
And Jehanne Plantagenet was lying out with the chequered curtains of blue and white withdrawn from her visage and the clothes of the bed straight over her and no breath at all in her body.
Round her were burning the candles of fair and pure wax, and she was surely dead.