messages from him, and we have thus every reason to hope that there will
be no mishap. For the rest, sweet lady, I rejoice that I am within these
walls, because you are here, and yet would I gladly go to the ends of the
earth if so I might hasten your deliverance.

"Ever your servant,
"RANULPH D'AVIGNON."

The loyal and generous words were like balm upon wounds. The last speech
that Garin de Biterres had made to her that night conveyed a terrifying
possibility.

"Lady Philippa," his cold harsh voice had fallen upon her ears like the
grating of a key in a prison door, "your father once refused me your hand.
I hope to find you more gracious, or at least more compliant. My captain,
Malemort, stands ready to wed the Lady Alazais as I would wed you, at high
noon to-morrow. The fate of the others depends upon you. As good Christian
maidens ye should all prefer Christian marriage to slavery among the
Moslems,--but gold in the purse is better than an unwilling bride."

It was not long after sunset when old Grimaud, Count Thibaut's gooseherd,
was aroused from a light sleep by a fluttering at his window. He found
huddled on the sill a small dun pigeon under whose wing nestled a roll of
writing. According to instructions, he took it at once to Sir Gualtier
Giffard, who found therein Ranulph's statement of the tragedy impending at
Montfaucon. It was like the crater of a volcano suddenly opened in what
had seemed a bright and fertile valley. On the very borders of this
paradise of luxury and delight lay a world where a thing like this was
possible. He strode hastily into the hall, told the news to the old
knight, a cousin of Count Thibaut's, who had charge of the castle for the