United States or Fiji ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
While Prosper is galloping after Dom Galors, and Dom Galors is galloping after Isoult, let us turn to that unconscious lady who hides her limbs in a pair of ragged breeches, and her bloom under the grime of coal-dust. Her cloud of hair, long now and lustrous, out of all measure to her pretence, she was accustomed to shorten by doubling it under her cap.
Now it happened that, whilst they were upon that voyage, the Lady Bragwaine came of a sudden into the cabin of that ship and there she beheld the Lady Belle Isoult lying upon a couch weeping. Dame Bragwaine said, "Lady, why do you weep?"
"Where is your wedding-ring, my child?" he asked her, when he had noticed that it was not where he had put it. "Lord, it is here," said she, blushing again. She drew from her neck a fine gold chain whereon were the ring and another trinket which beamed like glass. Is that where you would have it, Isoult?" "Yes, lord," she answered. "For this present it must be there." "As you will," said Prosper.
They sat in a ring on the grass round an iron pot. Each had a fork with which he fished for himself. Down came Falve smirking, and sat himself by Isoult. He had a flower in his hand. "I plucked this for my mistress," says he, "but failing her I give it to my master." She had to take it, with a sick smile. She had a sicker heart. The horrid play went on. Falve grinned and shrugged like a Frenchman.
There was love in the Countess's looks; Isoult could not doubt it. And Prosper did not take it amiss. Here it was that Isoult was blind, for Prosper had no notions whatever about the Countess's looks. He was in very high spirits that supper. He liked Isoult to be by him again, liked it for her sake as well as for the sake of the escapade.
I have done ill if I have not thus expounded Isoult la Desirous, for without such knowledge of her you will hardly understand her apathy.
Prosper by himself would have been fogged in a mile, but Isoult had not lived her fifteen years of wild life for nothing: she had the fox's instinct for an earth, and the hare's for doubling on a trail. The woods spoke to her as they spoke to each other, as they spoke to the beasts, or the beasts among themselves.
This was a new sound, more hasty and murmurous than any girl's heart, and much more dreadful than the music of the still distant hounds; it was very near, a rushing and pattering sound, as of countless beasts running. Isoult knew it. "Wolves!" she said; "let be, there is no harm from them save in the winter."
He got what satisfaction there was from the thought that, having dropt it behind him, he could not give it back for all the tears in the world. He was busy now examining the other token a crystal locket whereon were a pelican in piety circled with a crown of thorns, and on the other side the letters I and F interlaced. He knew it better than most people. "Isoult, stop crying," he said.
Her heart gave a great leap, then stood still. Perhaps there was a flicker in the Abbot's undertone; his lips may have been dry; but his courage was beyond proof. He held on. Isoult was blanched as a cloth; lips, fingers and ears, the tongue in her open mouth all creeks for the blood were ebbed dry. Her awful eyes, fixed and sombre stars, threatened to gulf her in their dark.
Word Of The Day