A Monk of Fife by Andrew Lang
page 71 of 341 (20%)
page 71 of 341 (20%)
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"Alas! I warned him, but he died unconfessed. I will do what I may to
have Masses said for the repose of his soul, poor man: and he so young!" With that she wept, for she wept readily, even for a less thing than such a death as was that archer's. We had now crossed the drawbridge, whereat my heart beat more lightly, and the Maiden told Poulengy that she would go to the house where she lodged, near the castle. "And thence," she said, "I must fare into the town, for I have promised to visit a damsel of my friends, one Heliote Poulvoir, if I may find my way thither. Know you, gentle damsel," she said to me, "where she abides? Or perchance you can lead me thither, if it lies on your way." "I was even going thither, Pucelle," I said, mincing in my speech; whereat she laughed, for of her nature she was merry. "Scots are Heliote and her father, and a Scot are not you also, damsel? your speech betrays you," she said; "you all cling close together, you Scots, as beseems you well, being strangers in this sweet land of France"; and her face lighted up as she spoke the name she loved, and my heart worshipped her with reverence. "Farewell," she cried to Poulengy, smiling graciously, and bowing with such a courtesy as a queen might show, for I noted it myself, as did all men, that this peasant girl had the manners of the Court, being schooled, as I deem, by the greatest of ladies, her friends St. Margaret and St. Catherine. |
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