"_El tems amoreus plein de joie,
El tems ou tote riens s'esgaie,--_"

and burst into a sudden passion of tears. There were hosts of
women-children born every day, she reflected, who were not princesses
and therefore compelled to marry ogres; and some of them were
beautiful. And minstrels made such an ado over beauty.

Dawn found her in the orchard. She was to remember that it was a
cloudy morning, and that mist-tatters trailed from the more distant
trees. In the slaty twilight the garden's verdure was lustreless,
grass and foliage uniformly sombre save where dewdrops showed like
beryls. Nowhere in the orchard was there absolute shadow, nowhere a
vista unblurred; but in the east, half-way between horizon and zenith,
two belts of coppery light flared against the gray sky like embers
swaddled by their ashes. The birds were waking; there were occasional
scurryings in tree-tops and outbursts of peevish twittering to attest
as much; and presently came a singing, less meritorious than that of
many a bird perhaps, but far more grateful to the girl who heard it,
heart in mouth. A lute accompanied the song demurely.

Sang Alain:

"_O Madam Destiny, omnipotent,
Be not too obdurate the while we pray
That this the fleet, sweet time of youth be spent
In laughter as befits a holiday,
From which the evening summons us away,
From which to-morrow wakens us to strife
And toil and grief and wisdom--and to-day
Grudge us not life!_

"_O Madam Destiny, omnipotent,
Why need our elders trouble us at play?
We know that very soon we shall repent
The idle follies of our holiday,
And being old, shall be as wise as they,
But now we are not wise, and lute and fife
Seem sweeter far than wisdom--so to-day
Grudge us not life!_

"_O Madam Destiny, omnipotent,
You have given us youth--and must we cast away
The cup undrained and our one coin unspent
Because our elders' beards and hearts are gray?
They have forgotten that if we delay
Death claps us on the shoulder, and with knife
Or cord or fever mocks the prayer we pray--
'Grudge us not life!'_

"_Madam, recall that in the sun we play
But for an hour, then have the worm for wife,
The tomb for habitation--and to-day
Grudge us not life!_"

Candor in these matters is best. Katharine scrambled into the crotch
of the apple-tree. The dew pattered sharply about her, but the
Princess was not in