for all to see. There also upon the bent head of
Jehane--she kneeling before him--he laid for a little while the same
cap, then in its room a circlet of golden leaves. If he was sovereign
Count, girt with the sword, then she was Countess of Anjou before her
grudging world. What more was she? Wife of a dead man and his killer!
The words stayed by her, and tinged the whole of her life.

CHAPTER XIV

OF WHAT KING RICHARD SAID TO THE BOWING ROOD; AND WHAT JEHANE TO KING
RICHARD

Miracles, as a plain man, I hold to be the peculiar of the Church. This
chapter must be Milo's on that ground, if there were no other. But there
is one strong other. Milo set the tune which caused King Richard to
dance. And a very good tune it is--according to Milo. Therefore let him
speak.

'The office of Abbot,' he writes, 'is a solemn, great office, being no
less than that of spiritual father to a family of men consecrate (as it
is written, _Abba_, father); yet not on that account should vainglory
puff the cheeks of a pious man. God knows that I am no boaster. He,
therefore, will not misjudge me, as certain others have done, when I
record in this place (for positive cause and reason good) the exorbitant
honours I received on the day of my lord Saint John Baptist in this year
of thankful redemption eleven hundred and eighty-nine. Forsooth, I
myself, this Milo of Saint Mary-of-the-Pine, was chosen to preach in the
church of the nuns of Fontevrault before a congregation thus
composed:--Two kings (one crowned), one legate _a latere_, a reigning
duke (him of Burgundy, I mean), five cinctured counts, twice three
bishops, abbots without number; Jehane Countess of Anjou and wife to
the King of England, the Countess of Roussillon, the two Countesses of
Angoulesme (the old and the young), Lady Elis of Montfort (reputed the
most witty lady in Languedoc), thirteen pronounced poets, and the
hairdresser of the King of France--to name no more. That sermon of
mine--I shame not to report it-was found worthy the inscription in the
Register of Fontevrault; and in the initial letter thereof, garlanded in
gold work very beautiful to be seen, is the likeness of myself vested,
with a mitre on my head, all done by that ingenious craftsman and
faithful Christian man, Aristarchus of Byzantium, _suspirante deo_.
There the curious may consult it, as indeed they do. I hope I know the
demands of history upon proportion better than to write it all here.
Briefly th