" said I, laughing, "when I fell on the dame that
ought thee the money, and fairly wrenched it from her, whether she would
or no. Howbeit," I continued to the poor woman, "_I_ will be good to
you, if I can."

By bits and scraps I pulled her story forth of her mouth. It was no
uncommon tale: a sickly wife and a selfish husband,--a deserted,
struggling wife and mother--and then a penniless widow, with no friends
and poor health, that could scant make shift to keep body and soul
together, whether for herself or the children. The husband had come
home at last but to be a burden and sorrow--to be nursed through a
twelve months' sickness and then to die; and what with the weariness and
lack of all comfort, the poor widow fell sick herself soon after, and
Hilda, the young maid, had kept matters a-going, as best she might, ever
sithence.

I comforted the poor thing to my little power; told her that I would
give Hilda some work to do (and pay her for it), and that I would come
and see her by times whilst the Queen should abide in Paris; but that
when she went away must I go likewise, and it might be all suddenly,
that I could not give her to wit. Hilda had sent the children forth to
buy food, and there were but her and her mother. Mine husband was
longer in return than I looked for.

"My maid," said I to Hilda, "prithee tell me a thing. What didst thou
signify by saying to thyself, right as we set forth from the Palace,
that God must have heard thee?"

A great wave of colour passed over her face and neck.

"Dame," she said, "I will speak soothliness. It was partly because I
had prayed for money to buy food and physic: but partly also, because I
was afraid of something, and I had asked the good God to keep it away
from me. When you said that you and Messire would condescend to come
with me, it delivered me from my fear. The good God must have heard me,
for nobody else knew."

"Afraid!" said I. "Whereof, my maid? Was it the porter's great dog?
He is a gentle beast as may be, and would never touch thee. What could
harm thee in the Queen's Palace?"

The wave of colour came again. "Madame does not know," she said, in a
low voice. "There are men worse than brutes: but such great ladies do
not see it. One stayed me and spoke to me the night afore. I was
afraid he might come again, and there was no one to help me but the good
Lord. So I called to Him to be my guard, for there was none else; and I
think He sent