is brother of
England if King Richard would marry. 'Marry!' cried he, when they
brought him down the question, 'yes, I am all for marrying. I will marry
one-and-twenty million milled edges, our Saviour!' They reported to King
Sancho the substance of these words, and asked him if such and such
would be the dowry of his lady daughter.

'Ask King Richard if he will have her with that in hand and the
territories demarked,' said Don Sancho.

This was done. Richard grew grave, made no more jokes. He turned to
Milo, who happened to be near him.

'Where is the little lady?' he asked him. Milo looked out of the
window.

'My lord,' he said, 'she is in the orchard at this moment; and I think
the Countess is with her.' Richard blenched, as if he had been struck
with a whip. Collecting himself, he turned and looked down through the
window to the leafy orchard below. He looked long, and saw (as Milo had
seen) the two girls, the tall and the little, the crimson and the white,
standing near together in the shade. Jehane had her head bent, for
Berengere had hold of the jewel in her bosom. Then Berengere put her
arms round the other's neck and leaned her head where the jewel lay.
Jehane stooped her head lower and lower, cheek touched cheek. At this
King Richard turned about; despair set hard was on his face. He said in
a dry voice, 'Tell the King I will do it.'

In the tedious negotiations of the next few days it was arranged that
the Princess should await the Queen-Mother at Bayonne, and sail with her
and the fleet to Sicily. There King Richard would meet and marry her.
What had passed between her and Jehane in the orchard, who knows? They
kissed at parting; but Jehane neither told Richard, nor did he ask her,
why Berengere had lain her cheek upon her bosom, or why herself had
stooped so low her head. Women's ways!

So Red Heart made her sacrifice, and Frozen Heart suffered the Sun; and
he they called later Lion-Heart went out to fight Saladin, and less open
foes than he.

BOOK II

THE BOOK OF NAY

CHAPTER I

THE CHAFFER CALLED MATE-GRIFON

Differing from the Mantuan as much in sort as degree, I sing less the
arms than the man, less the panoply of some Christian king offended than
the heart of one in its urgent private transports; less treaties than
the agony of treating, less personages than persons, the actors rather
than the scene. Arms pass like the fashion of them, to-day or to-morrow
they will be go