sent recovery. Surely, when you are whole again, you have
vowed a pilgrimage to the shrine of the saint, your friend?" Here she
smiled at me gaily, for she was a right merry damsel, and a goodly.

"Nay," she said, "I have done more for you than your physician, seeing
that I, or the saint you serve, have now brought the red colour into
these wan cheeks of yours. Is she a Scottish saint, then? perchance St.
Margaret, of whom I have read? Will you not let me look at the sacred
thing?"

"Nay," said I. "Methinks, from your smiling, that you have taken
opportunity to see my treasure before to-day, being a daughter of our
mother Eve."

"She is very beautiful," said Charlotte; "nay, show her to me again!"

With that I pressed the spring and opened the case, for there is no lover
but longs to hear his lady commended, and to converse about her. Yet I
had spoken no word, for my part, about her beauty, having heard say that
he who would be well with one woman does ill to praise another in her
presence.

"Beautiful, indeed, she is," said Charlotte. "Never have I seen such
eyes, and hair like gold, and a look so gracious! And for thy pilgrimage
to the shrine of this fair saint, where does she dwell?"

I told her at Chinon, or at Tours, or commonly wheresoever the Court
might be, for that her father was the King's painter.

"And you love her very dearly?"

"More than my life," I said. "And may the saints send you, demoiselle,
as faithful a lover, to as fair a lady."

"Nay," she said, reddening. "This is high treason, and well you wot that
you hold no lady half so fair as your own. Are you Scots so
smooth-spoken? You have not that repute. Now, what would you give to
see that lady?"

"All that I have, which is little but my service and goodwill. But she
knows not where I am, nor know I how she fares, which irks me more than
all my misfortunes. Would that I could send a letter to her father, and
tell him how I do, and ask of their tidings."

"The Dauphin is at Tours," she said, "and there is much coming and going
between Tours and this town. For the Maid is instant with the Dauphin to
ride forthwith to Reims, and there be sacred and crowned; but now he
listens and believes, and anon his counsellors tell him that this is
foolhardy, and a thing impossible."

"O they of little faith!" I said, sighing.

"None the less, word has come that the Maid has been in her oratory at
prayers, and a Voice from heaven has