aw that
Makrisi had vanished in the tumult, and that many people awaited his
speaking.

The lord of Venaissin began: "You have done me a great service, Messire
de Vemoil. As recompense, I give you what I may. I freely yield you
all my right in Venaissin. Oh no, kingcraft is not for me. I daily
see and hear of battles won, cities beleaguered, high towers
overthrown, and ancient citadels and new walls leveled with the dust.
I have conversed with many kings, the directors of these events, and
they were not happy people. Yes, yes, I have witnessed divers
happenings, for I am old. . . . I have found nothing which can serve
me in place of honor."

He turned to Dona Biatritz. It was as if they were alone. "Belhs
Cavaliers," he said, "I had sworn fealty to this Guillaume. He
violated his obligations; but that did not free me of mine. An oath is
an oath. I was, and am to-day, sworn to support his cause, and to
profit in any fashion by its overthrow would be an abominable action.
Nay, more, were any of his adherents alive it would be my manifest duty
to join them against our preserver, Messire de Vernoil. This necessity
is very happily spared me. I cannot, though, in honor hold any fief
under the supplanter of my liege-lord. I must, therefore, relinquish
Vaquieras and take eternal leave of Venaissin. I will not lose the
right to call myself your servant!" he cried out--"and that which is
noblest in the world must be served fittingly. And so, Belhs
Cavaliers, let us touch palms and bid farewell, and never in this life
speak face to face of trivial happenings which we two alone remember.
For naked of lands and gear I came to you--a prince's daughter--very
long ago, and as nakedly I now depart, so that I may retain the right
to say, 'All my life long I served my love of her according to my
abilities, wholeheartedly and with clean hands.'"

"Yes, yes! you must depart from Venaissin," said Dona Biatritz. A
capable woman, she had no sympathy with his exquisite points of honor,
and yet loved him all the more because of what seemed to her his
surpassing folly. She smiled, somewhat as mothers do in humoring an
unreasonable boy. "We will go to my nephew's court at Montferrat," she
said. "He will willingly provide for his old aunt and her husband.
And you may still make verses--at Montferrat, where we lived verses,
once, Raimbaut."

Now they gazed full upon each other. Thus they stayed, transfigured,
neither seemi