“I have taken my chance; nothing more can matter.”
Her face lighted up of a sudden, and became beautiful as she gave the old man one of her smiles.
“The Holy Mother remember you, Jehanot,” she said; “you are a good fellow, and I have prayed for you, but Enid is in my hands.”
She turned and walked slowly back towards the court, holding the cup pressed against her bosom, the men looking after her in silence. Her gray cloak vanished under the brown domes of the fruit trees. Jehanot plunged his spade into the ground with an oath.
“The saints defend her!” he said, “How she drives the devil out of one with a look!”
His companion grunted and went on with his work.
“I would run for it, but—”
Jehanot glanced at him quickly over his shoulder.
“But for madame?”
“Yes.”