now the palace of glass was shivered, and
she was forsaken for a peasant beguine. The thought set her pacing to
the window.

There seemed to be a great to-do without. A dozen lanterns lit up the
forecourt, and there was a tramping of many horses. A shouting, too, as
if a king were on the move. She hurriedly dried her eyes and arranged
her dress, tossing the reliquary and its broken chain on the table. Some
new guests; and the inn was none too large. She would have the landlord
flayed if he dared to intrude on the privacy which she had commanded.
Nay, she would summon her people that instant and set off for home, for
her company was strong enough to give security in the midnight forests.

She was about to blow a little silver whistle to call her steward when a
step at the door halted her. A figure entered, a stranger. It was a tall
stripling, half armed like one who is not for battle but expects a brush
at any corner of the road. A long surcoat of dark green and crimson fell
stiffy as if it covered metal, and the boots were spurred and defended
in front with thin plates of steel. The light helm was open and showed a
young face. The stranger moved wearily as if from a long journey.

"Good even to you, sister," said the voice, a musical voice with the
broad accent of Lorraine. "Help me to get rid of this weariful harness."

Catherine's annoyance was forgotten in amazement. Before she knew what
she did her fingers were helping the bold youth to disarm. The helm was
removed, the surcoat was stripped, and the steel corslet beneath it.
With a merry laugh the stranger kicked off the great boots which were
too wide for his slim legs.

He stretched himself, yawning, and then laughed again. "By my staff,"
he said, "but I am the weary one." He stood now in the full glow of the
lantern, and Catherine saw that he wore close-fitting breeches of fine
linen, a dark pourrpoint, and a tunic of blue. The black hair was cut
short like a soldier's, and the small secret face had the clear tan
of one much abroad in wind and sun. The eyes were tired and yet merry,
great grey eyes as clear and deep as a moorland lake.... Suddenly she
understood. It may have been the sight of the full laughing lips, or the
small maidenly breasts outlined by the close-fitting linen. At any rate
she did not draw back when the stranger kissed her cheek.

"Ah, now I am woman again," said the crooning voice. The unbuckled sword
in its leather sheath was laid on