your grace, good stepmother, I do not wish to marry anyone
except my foster-brother, who has returned. He has given me a golden
wedding-ring, and has promised to come for me within a few days."

"A fig for your gold ring," cried the malignant hag. "_Bon gre, mal
gre_, you shall marry Job the Witless, the stable boy."

"Marry Job! Oh, horror! I should die of grief! Alas, my mother, were
you but here now to protect me!"

"If you must howl, pray do so in the courtyard. You may make as many
grimaces as you please, but in three days you shall be married for all
that."

* * * * *

The old gravedigger slowly patrolled the road, his bell in his hand,
carrying the news of those who had died from village to village. In
his doleful whine he cried: "Pray for the soul of a noble cavalier, a
worthy gentleman of a good heart, who was mortally wounded in the side
by the stroke of a sword in the battle near Nantes. He is to be buried
to-day in the White Church."

At the marriage feast the bride was all in tears. All the guests,
young and old, wept with her, all except her stepmother. She was
conducted to the place of honour at supper-time, but she only drank a
sip of water and ate a morsel of bread. By and by the dancing
commenced, but when it was proposed that the bride should join in the
revels she was not to be found; she had, indeed, escaped from the
house, her hair flying in disorder, and where she had gone no one
knew.

All the lights were out at the manor, every one slept profoundly. The
poor young woman alone lay concealed in the garden in the throes of a
fever. She heard a footstep close by. "Who is there?" she asked
fearfully.

"It is I, Nola, your foster-brother."

"Ah, is it you? You are truly welcome, my dear brother," cried
Gwennolaik, rising in rapture.

"Come with me," he whispered, and swinging her on to the crupper of
his white horse he plunged madly into the night.

"We fly fast," she cried. "We must have ridden a hundred leagues, I
think. Ah, but I am happy with thee! I will never leave thee more."

The owl hooted and night noises came to her ears.

"Ah, but thy horse is swift," said she, "and thine armour, how
brilliant it is! How happy I am to have found thee, my foster-brother!
But are we near thy manor?"

[Illustration: GWENNOLAIK AND NOLA]

"We shall arrive there in good time, my sister," he replied.

"Thy heart is cold, thy hair is wet! Ah, how chill are thy