patience, staid courtesy, humility, never failed her; out of the deep
wells of her soul she drew them forth in a stream. Richard adored.
'Queen Jehane, Queen Jehane!' he cried out, with his arms straightly
round her--'Was ever man in the world blest so high since God said,
"Behold thy mother"? And so art thou mother to me, O bride. Bride and
queen as thou shalt be.'

This was great invention. She put her hand upon his head. 'My Richard,
my Richard Yea-and-Nay,' she said, as if pitying his wild heart. The
nickname jarred.

'Never call me that,' he told her. 'Leave that to Bertran de Born, a
fool's word to the fool who made it.'

'If I could, if I could!' thought Jehane, and sighed. There were tears
in her eyes, also, as she remembered what generosity in him must be
frozen up, and what glory of her own. But she did not falter in what she
had to do, while he, too exalted to be pitied, began to sing a Southern
song--

Al' entrada del tems clair, eya!

When their hair commingled in their love, when they were close together,
there was little distinguishing between them; he was more her pair than
Eustace her blood-brother, in stature and shape, in hue and tincture of
gold. Jehane you know, but not Richard. Of him, son of a king, heir of a
king, if you wish some bodily sign, I will say shortly that he was a
very tall young man, high-coloured and calm in the face, straight-nosed,
blue-eyed, spare of flesh, lithe, swift in movement. He was at once bold
and sleek, eager and cold as ice--an odd combination, but not more odd