"Allons!" said Vulfrand, "Good night, my Bertille; sleep well, and above all, forget the eye of that serpent."
"If only you were there, to put your foot on his head," said she, smiling, to her father.
"Oh! you are no big girl, are you?—no more than the little bird was a big bird. Go to bed; sleep, dream of him, and crush him under your own heel." Half an hour later, Bertille was asleep.
Meanwhile, the young horseman in question, Amalon by name, a Duke in rank, from the country of Champagne, charged with the conduct of negotiations at the court of Burgundy, was following the cortège of ecclesiastics, with whom he must attend to-morrow's council at St. Marcel. But, ever, as he rode, the beautiful face of Bertille shining before his eyes, awoke evil thoughts within him. He soon decided that so fair a maid was better worth his attention, than a discussion with the bishops concerning the goods of the church. So, after waiting until the boats had carried the learned company across the Saône, he returned to his own apartment, preoccupied, and with his heart beating rather faster than was its wont.
"Surely the girl is very fair," he said to himself, "and well worth a little trouble. These are quiet days in my town of Troyes; and who knows but the name of Duchess may tickle her ears." Then he, too, slept.
The next day, the Duke Amalon, faring forth earlier than was his custom, chanced to meet Bertille in the street, as she was going forth to do marketing for the household. Making her a low obeisance, he accosted the maid, told her who he was, and how her charms had brought him, at one glance, to her feet. But, to his great surprise, he found that neither the magic title of Duke, nor of Duchess, even, wrought favourably with the girl. On the contrary, her dark eyes showed only fear and resentment, until, taking advantage of the protection afforded by passers-by, she turned swiftly and fled from him, homeward.
"Fly away, shy dove," hissed the young lord between his teeth. "None the less there shall be good bird-nesting to-morrow."
A week later, Duke Amalon sat at the board. He was sick at heart, his proud face aflame with wine and anger. Messengers were announced, and there entered to him the five servants he had left behind at Châlon.
"You have been longer than long enough," he growled at them, "Ere now I would have caught her six times over."
"She did not quit the house until this morning, Prince, and 'tis a day's journey twixt there and here."