“Yet you are so good and beautiful.”
“Child, child, beauty brings more misery than joy; it is a bright fire that burns upon itself.”
“Renan has told me I am beautiful.”
“So you are, and to Renan.”
“I never think of it, lady, save when Renan looks into my eyes and touches my mouth with his lips; then say in my heart, ‘I am beautiful, and Renan loves me, God be thanked!’”
The words echoed into Igraine’s soul. There was such pain in her great eyes that the girl was startled from the simple contemplation of her own affairs of heart.
“You are sad, lady.”
“Child, I am tired to death.”
“Bide with me and rest. See, I will feed your horse and give him water; he will do famously under the tree. There is my bed yonder in the corner; I spread a clean sheet on it this very morning. Shall I help you to unarm?”