Then my blood froze with the horror of a scream I heard, then another and another. In an instant mummers, guests, room, and all were in a blaze. One of the company, to see the mummers better, had seized a torch and held it near them. The tow sprang into flame, and the five men who were tied together were instantly on fire and shrieking out. One only loosed himself and ran and plunged into a tank for washing of the silver, and which happened to be full of water.
All through the tumult and cries there stood my Duchess mid the flying brands, which I fought as best I might with cap and hands.
“Come away,” I cried, “oh, mistress, come.”
“Nay, help me to save him, Jehan,” was what she whispered back.
Her fair veil shrivelled with the heat, the flying slivers blistered her arms and neck. Cries of “The King, the King, save the King,” grew loud and louder. Queen Isabeau fainted, yet my brave Duchess stood there till every flying spark had been stamped out, holding gathered about her the heavy velvet robe. When at last the fire was all subdued, she threw aside the blue robe that had been so fair, and there under its scorched folds, in his monstrous suit of tow, knelt the King, safe and unharmed.
“Hasten, Sire,” cried she, “the Queen waiteth you. Throw over you Jehan’s cloak lest some wanton spark fly near you.”
The King hurried away, and then think not but that I hastened to get my mistress home. And oh, my Lord’s pride in my Lady!
And oh, the King’s words when he came next morn to thank her, kneeling on one knee to kiss her hand!
The sky-blue robe, say you? What became of that?
My mistress packed it away in the coffer that had brought it from Genoa, with her own hands, and from that time my Lord taketh for his pennon one of sky-blue ground with a silver dove set in its midst.