fle, at the end of which two seemed to be driven into the outer yard
by the five, and Amphillis lost sight of them. She told her mistress
what she saw.

"Some drunken brawl amongst the retainers, most like," said the
Countess. "Come back to thy bed, maid; 'tis no concern of thine."

Amphillis obeyed, and silence fell upon the house. The next thing of
which she was conscious was Perrote's entrance in the morning.

"What caused yon bruit in the night?" asked the Countess, as Amphillis
was dressing her hair.

"Dame," said Perrote, "it was an attack upon the house."

"An attack?" The Countess turned suddenly round, drawing her hair out
of her tirewoman's hands. "After what fashion? thieves? robbers? foes?
Come, tell me all about it."

"I scantly know, Dame, how far I may lightly tell," said Perrote,
uneasily. "It were better to await Sir Godfrey's return, ere much be
said thereanentis."

The Countess fixed her keen black eyes on her old attendant.

"The which means," said she, "that the matter has too much ado with me
that I should be suffered to know the inwards thereof. Perrote, was it
that man essayed once more to free me? Thou mayest well tell me, for I
know it. The angels whispered it to me as I lay in my bed."

"My dear Lady, it was thus. Pray you, be not troubled: if so were,
should you be any better off than now?"

"Mary, Mother!" With that wail of pain the Countess turned back to her
toilet. "Who was it? and how? Tell me what thou wist."

Perrote considered a moment, and then answered the questions.

"Your Grace hath mind of the two pedlars that came hither a few days
gone?"

"One of whom sold yon violet twist, the illest stuff that ever threaded
needle? He had need be 'shamed of himself. Ay: well?"

"Dame, he was no pedlar at all, but Sir Roland de Pencouet, a knight of
Bretagne."

"Ha! one of Oliver Clisson's following, or I err. Ay?"

A look of intense interest had driven out the usual weary listlessness
in the black eyes.

"Which had thus disguised him in order to essay the freeing of your
Grace."

"I am at peace with him, then, for his caitiff twist. Knights make ill
tradesmen, I doubt not. Poor fool, to think he could do any such thing!
What befell him?"

"With him, Dame, were two other--Ivo filz Jehan, yon little Breton
jeweller that was used to trade at Hennebon; I know not if your Grace
have mind of him--"

"Ay, I remember him."

"And also a priest, named Fathe