appearance of a great warehouse. Those that were prosperous came
a-riding, hissing geese and chickens and grain in bags across the
saddle. The poorer trudged afoot.

Among the latter came the girl Joan of the Market Square. She brought
no grain, but fowls only, and of these but two. She took the steep
ascent like a thoroughbred, muscles working clean under glowing skin,
her deep bosom rising evenly, treading like a queen among that clutter
of peasants.

And when she was brought into the great hall her head went yet higher.
It pleased the young _seigneur_ to be gracious. But he eyed her much as
he had eyed the great horse that morning before he cut it with the whip.
She was but a means to an end. Such love and tenderness as were in him
had gone out to the gentle wife he had put away from him, and had
died--of Clotilde.

So Charles appraised her and found her, although but a means, very
beautiful. Only the Bishop turned away his head.

"Joan," said Charles, "do you know why I have sent for you?"

The girl looked down. But, although she quivered, it was not with
fright.

"I do, sire."

Something of a sardonic smile played around the _seigneur's_ mouth. The
butterfly came too quietly to the net.