te chambre a voulte grise,
Et traineray ma triste vie
Sans que jamais mon cueur varie,
Car toujours seray vostre amye._"

THE SEVENTH NOVEL.--ISABEL OF VALOIS, BEING
FORSAKEN BY ALL OTHERS, IS BEFRIENDED BY A PRIEST,
WHO, IN CHIEF THROUGH A CHILD'S INNOCENCE, CONTRIVES
AND EXECUTES A LAUDABLE IMPOSTURE, AND WINS
TO DEATH THEREBY.

The Story of the Heritage

In the year of grace 1399 (Nicolas begins) dwelt in a hut near Caer
Dathyl in Arvon, as he had done for some five years, a gaunt hermit,
notoriously consecrate, whom neighboring Welshmen revered as the
Blessed Evrawc. There had been a time when people called him Edward
Maudelain, but this period he dared not often remember.

For though in macerations of the flesh, in fasting, and in hour-long
prayers he spent his days, this holy man was much troubled by devils.
He got little rest because of them. Sometimes would come into his hut
Belphegor in the likeness of a butler, and whisper, "Sire, had you been
King, as was your right, you had drunk to-day not water but the wines
of Spain and Hungary." Or Asmodeus saying, "Sire, had you been King,
as was your right, you had lain now on cushions of silk."

One day in early spring came a more cunning devil, named Bembo, in the
likeness of a fair woman with yellow hair and large blue eyes. She
wore a massive crown which seemed too heavy for her frailness to
sustain. Soft tranquil eyes had lifted from her book. "You are my
cousin now, messire," this phantom had appeared to say.

[Illustration: "IN THE LIKENESS OF A FAIR WOMAN" _Painting by Howard
Pyle_]

That was the worst, and Maudelain began to fear he was a little mad
because even this he had resisted with many aves.

There came also to his hut, through a sullen snowstorm, upon the
afternoon of All Soul's day, a horseman in a long cloak of black. He
tethered his black horse without and strode softly through the door,
and upon his breast and shoulders the snow was white as the bleached
bones of those women that died in Merlin's youth.

"Greetings in God's name, Messire Edward Maudelain," the stranger said.

Since the new-comer spoke intrepidly of holy things a cheerier
Maudelain knew that this at least was no demon. "Greetings!" he
answered. "But I am Evrawc. You name a man long dead."

"But it is from a certain Bohemian woman I come. What matter, then, if
the dead receive me?" And thus speaking, the stranger dropped his
cloak.