up into Godefroid's room. The fair Countess looked at the bed, the
carved chairs, the chest, the tapestry, the table, with a joy like
that of the exile who sees on his return the crowded roofs of his
native town nestling at the foot of a hill.

"If you have not deceived me," she said to Jacqueline, "I promise you
a hundred crowns in gold."

"Behold, madame," said the woman, "the poor angel is confiding--here
is all his treasure."

As she spoke, Jacqueline opened a drawer in the table and showed some
parchments.

"God of mercy!" cried the Countess, snatching up a document that
caught her eye, on which she read, _Gothofredus Comes Gantiacus_
(Godefroid, Count of Ghent).

She dropped the parchment, and passed her hand over her brow; then,
feeling, no doubt, that she had compromised herself by showing so much
emotion, she recovered her cold demeanor.

"I am satisfied," said she.

She went downstairs and out of the house. The constable and his
wife stood in their doorway, and saw her take the path to the
landing-place.

A boat was moored hard by. When the rustle of the Countess' approach
was audible, a boatman suddenly stood up, helped the fair laundress to