n nothing and am ever at fault."

"You are unjust to yourself," she protested. "You please me in much,
and . . . you ought to know it;" then she blushed. . . "Let us go on
the terrace," and hurried across. . . "Now talk to me . . . not about
me," she said rather curtly, as she sat down.

De Lacy was growing used to these swift shifts of humor, these flashes
of tenderness, veering instantly to aloofness, and then back to a
half-confidential camaraderie, that was alluringly delicious, yet
irritatingly unsatisfying. At first he had tried to force the
situation to his own liking,--to break through her moods and effect an
atmosphere more equable,--but she soon had taught him the folly of it,
and never failed to punish when he forgot. This time she, herself, had
broken through a bit, but that would only make his punishment the
heavier.

At first the conversation was aimless and disconnected. De Lacy let it
drift and the Countess was rather distrait and steered it uncertainly.
Presently she took a grip upon herself, and, before he realized it, he
was telling her of the French Court; of Louis the King, whom men called
"The Fell," but who was, he said, the ablest of the Valois, and would
do much for France--though not by the means then deemed most
honorable,--being far ahead of his Age. He spoke of the brave, dead
St. Pol, the Constable--after Dunois, the greatest since Du Guesclin's
time. He told her of their palaces . . . of the life of their women,
though he touched but lightly upon its loose gayety . . . of the cities
. . . of the great domains whereon the noble had the "right of high
justice, the middle and the low," and indeed up until very lately had
done his own sweet will toward aught but the King, and in many cases
toward the King himself. . . And at length he mentioned having seen
and met Henry Tudor, Earl of Richmond, at the Court of Blois.
Concerning him the Countess asked many questions, and Aymer answered
them as best he could. He had not given the Earl much thought, nor had
he offered him any attentions, for he was regarded as little more than
adventurer--though one with strangely plenty of money; and who was
tolerated by the crafty Louis only because he might be useful some time
to play against the Yorkist King of England.

"Methinks there is more in the Tudor than you credit," said the
Countess. "I have heard much of him, and from one who knows him
well--or did a few years since. He is not a bra