Since her mother had gone she had shrunk from him. Now let her see how
magnanimous he could be. He, the _seigneur_, who held life and death in
his hands, would this day give, not death, but life.

Being not displeased with himself, he turned at last toward Joan and put
a hand over hers.

"You see," he said, "I am not so hard a man. By this Christian act shall
I celebrate your arrival."

But the Jew did not come. The singers learned the truth, and sang with
watchful eyes. The _seigneur's_ anger was known to be mighty, and to
strike close at hand.

Guillem, the gaoler, had been waiting for the summons.

News had come to him late in the afternoon that had made him indifferent
to his fate. The girl Joan, whom he loved, had come up the hill at the
overlord's summons. So, instead of raising an alarm, Guillem had waited
sullenly. Death, which yesterday he would have blenched to behold, now
beckoned him. When he was brought in, he stood with folded arms and
asked no mercy.

"He is gone, my lord," said Guillem, and waited. He did not glance at
the girl.

"Gone?" said Charles. Then he laughed, such laughter as turned the girl
cold.

"Gone, earth-clod? How now? Perhaps you, too, wished to give a hostage