At that she put her hand in mine with pride and sweetness, and
said, "I am ready, Robert. I give my heart, my life, and my honour
to you--forever."

Then, with great sweetness and solemnity she turned to the
clergyman: "Sir, my honour is also in your hands. If you have
mother or sister, or any care of souls upon you, I pray you, in
the future act as becomes good men."

"Mademoiselle," he said earnestly, "I am risking my freedom,
maybe my life, in this; do you think--"

Here she took his hand and pressed it. "Ah, I ask your pardon. I
am of a different faith from you, and I have known how men forget
when they should remember." She smiled at him so perfectly that
he drew himself up with pride.

"Make haste, sir," said I. "Jailers are curious folk."

The room was not yet lighted, the evening shadows were creeping
in, and up out of the town came the ringing of the vesper bell from
the church of the Recollets. For a moment there was stillness in the
room and all around us, and then the chaplain began in a low voice:
"I require and charge you both--" and so on. In a few moments I had
made the great vow, and had put on Alixe's finger a ring which the
clergyman drew from his own hand. Then we knelt down, and I know
we both prayed most fervently with the good man that we might "ever
remain in perfect love and perfect peace together."