oubadourish fashion. Even the most generous person cannot render to
love any more than that person happens to possess. I had a vision
once: The devil sat upon a cathedral spire and white doves flew about
him. Monks came and told him to begone. 'Do not the spires show you,
O son of darkness,' they clamored, 'that the place is holy?' And Satan
(in my vision) said these spires were capable of various
interpretations. I speak of symbols, John. Yet I also have loved, in
my own fashion--and, it would seem, I win the same reward as you."

He said more lately: "And so she is at Stirling now? with Robert
Stewart?" He laughed, not overpleasantly. "Eh, yes, it needed a bold
person to bring all your tidings! But you Brabanters are a very
thorough-going people."

The King rose and flung back his big head as a lion might. "John, the
loyal service you have done us and our esteem for your valor are so
great that they may well serve you as an excuse. May shame fall on
those who bear you any ill-will! You will now return home, and take
your prisoner, the King of Scotland, and deliver him to my wife, to do
with as she may elect. You will convey to her my entreaty--not my
orders, John--that she come to me here at Calais. As remuneration for
this evening's insolence, I assign lands as near your house as you can
choose them to the value of L500 a year for you and for your heirs."

You must know that John Copeland fell upon his knees before King
Edward. "Sire--" he stammered.

But the King raised him. "Nay," he said, "you are the better man.
Were there any equity in Fate, John Copeland, your lady had loved you,
not me. As it is, I shall strive to prove not altogether unworthy of
my fortune. Go, then, John Copeland--go, my squire, and bring me back
my Queen."

Presently he heard John Copeland singing without. And through that
instant was youth returned to Edward Plantagenet, and all the scents
and shadows and faint sounds of Valenciennes on that ancient night when
a tall girl came to him, running, stumbling in her haste to bring him
kingship. Now at last he understood the heart of Philippa.

"Let me live!" the King prayed; "O Eternal Father, let me live a little
while that I may make atonement!" And meantime John Copeland sang
without and the Brabanter's heart was big with joy.

Sang John Copeland:

"_Long I besought thee, nor vainly,
Daughter of water and air--
Charis! Idalia! Hortensis!
Hast tho