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Updated: June 3, 2025
They could not marry at Saint-Pol-la-Marche, because Gilles was on his service and might not win so far; nor could they have married before he went, because of his ill-treatment at the hands of the Béarnais. Of this Gilles had made light. 'He got worse than he gave, he told Saint-Pol. 'I left him dead in the wood. 'Would you see Jehane, Gilles? Saint-Pol had asked him before he went out.
Compunction was one: you could touch him on the heart and bring him weeping to his knees; affection was another: if he loved the petitioner he yielded handsomely. Now, this time it was Jehane and not his conscience which had sent him to Louviers. First of all Jehane had pleaded the Sepulchre, his old father, filial obedience, and he had laughed at the sweet fool.
Jehane did not flinch nor turn her eyes from considering her whitening wrist. 'Oh, Madame, she says, 'you will never bleed me; I am quite sure of that. Alas, it would be well if you could, without offence. 'Why, whom should I offend then? the Queen said, sniffing 'your ladyship? 'A greater, said Jehane. 'You think the King would be offended?
'I was sure of it, replied the lady, 'the moment I saw her in the autumn at Messina. But now your question is not worth the asking. The King abruptly left his sister and went over to the Queen's side of the palace. Berengère was sitting upon a balcony, all her ladies with her; but Jehane a little apart. When the King was announced all rose to their feet.
All those ranging days Jehane whether in bed cuddling her letters, or at the window of her tower, watching with brimmed eyes the pairing of the birds showed a proud front of sufferance, while inly her heart played a wild tune. Not a crying girl, nor one capable of any easy utterance, she could do no more than stand still, and wonder why she was most glad when most wretched.
I shall come as soon as I can to Acre, when I have done here the things which must be done. He meant his marriage. Little Madame Berengère was lodged, as became her, in the Emperor's palace at Limasol, having with her Queen Joan of Sicily, and among her women the young fair lady Jehane, none too fair, poor girl, by this time.
Moreover she was so fair of body and of visage, and so dainty withal, that nought in the world might be found fairer, so that her cousin germain all marvelled at her great beauty. And she had been bathed, and attired and had ease at all points for the fifteen days, so that she was come into so great beauty as wonder was. Much fair was the Lady Jehane in her gown of silk bended of gold.
When their hair commingled in their love, when they were close together, there was little distinguishing between them; he was more her pair than Eustace her blood-brother, in stature and shape, in hue and tincture of gold. Jehane you know, but not Richard.
The damsel said that she would well do that errand and she came to the father of the Lady Jehane, and said him what his daughter had said.
'Oh, yes, Madame, he is taller than I. 'They say he is cruel. Did you do you think him cruel? 'Madame, no, no. 'He is a poet, they say. Has he made many songs of me? Jehane murmured her doubts, exquisitely confused. 'Fifty poets, continued nestling Berengère, 'have made songs of me. There is a wreath of songs. They call me Frozen Heart: do you know why? They say I am too proud to love a poet.
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