The priest left the choir, followed by a clerk bearing the holy water. When he came to Flamenca, he did his best to spray her across the screen, and she uncovered a little her hair, where it was parted in the middle, the better to receive the water on her forehead. Her skin showed white and fine, and the golden crown of her hair, where the sun chanced to strike it with one of his rays, at that instant, shone resplendent. At the sight of this splendid sample of what love held in store for him, Guillem trembled with joy, and intoned the “Signum salutis.”
The priest then returned to the altar and said the “Confiteor,” with his little clerk. At the Evangel, Flamenca arose. At first a burgher, to Guillem’s disgust, stood in front of her; but God willed him to move to one side, that she might be seen unobscured. To cross herself, she lowered a little the band which covered her mouth and chin, and with one finger loosened the latchets of her mantle. Guillem gazed at her bare hand which seemed to steal his heart from his breast and bear it away. The emotion which seized him was so strong that he was like to faint of it.
By good fortune, he found at his feet a stool on which to kneel, as if in prayer. He stayed thus, quite still, till the little clerk gave him the pax. When, in her turn, Flamenca kissed the breviary, Guillem saw, for a moment, her red mouth, and the sight filled him with sweet joy.
When the clerk had finished giving the pax, Guillem considered how he might gain possession of the book.
“My friend,” he whispered to the clerk, “have you a calendar? I wish to learn on what day falls Pentecost.”
The youth handed him the book, but Guillem gave small heed to the day of the month or the year. He turned the leaves from end to end, and would fain have kissed them all for the sake of one, could he have done so without being remarked.
“Clerk,” he asked, “where is it that you give the pax? Is it not in the psalter?”
“Here is the place, sir,” the clerk answered, and showed it to Guillem who, kneeling again as if in prayer, kissed the page more than a thousand times, and did not cease from his devotions till the priest had said: “Ite missa.”
Archambaut left the church without delay, forcing Flamenca to follow with her damsels. Guillem waited for the priest to finish none, then addressed him courteously:
“Sir,” he said, “I demand a boon. Dine with me today at my hostel, and hereafter, as long as I stay, be my guest at table.”