“Because I am tired.” Her dark, heavy-lidded eyes were still clear and steady. “You must not think that I am more holy than I ever was. I have simply done what I meant to—come to the usual end—and I am tired.”
“Will your religion console you for the loss of the world?” smiled Luc.
“Yes,” she answered swiftly. “Do you remember me in the chapel of St. Wenceslas? I believe.”
“Are you putting this resolve in practice—at once?”
She answered in her old precise tones.
“I am journeying to a convent near Avignon which is under a certain obligation to me. I was generous to them and they will be generous to me.”
“Alone?” asked Luc gently. “You are travelling alone?”
She smiled.
“I had my page. He left me yesterday with most of my jewels. Yes, I am alone. As you may remember, Monsieur, I am not afraid—of such things as travelling alone.”
He did remember her in Bohemia, and a glow came into his heart.