Recalling it now, with her friend Adela, she mused a moment; then said how her gladdest memory of that hour was that never for an instant had she felt any doubt of the event. "God took that on him--I was bid Watch Gismond for my part: I did. Did I not watch him while he let His armourer just brace his greaves, Rivet his hauberk, on the fret The while! His foot . . . my memory leaves No least stamp out, nor how anon He pulled his ringing gauntlets on." Before the trumpet's peal had died, the false knight lay, "prone as his lie," upon the ground; and Gismond flew at him, and drove his sword into the breast-- "Cleaving till out the truth he clove. Which done, he dragged him to my feet And said 'Here die, but end thy breath In full confession, lest thou fleet From my first, to God's second death! Say, hast thou lied?' And, 'I have lied To God and her,' he said, and died." Then Gismond knelt and said to her words which even to this dear friend she could not repeat. She sank on his breast-- "Over my head his arm he flung Against the world . . ." --and then and there the two walked forth, amid the shouting multitude, never more to return. "And so they were married, and lived happy ever after." + + + + + Gaiety, courage, trust: in this nameless Browning heroine we find the characteristic marks. On that birthday morning, almost her greatest joy was in the sense of her cousins' love-- "I thought they loved me, did me grace To please themselves; 'twas all their deed" --and never a thought of their jealousy had entered her mind. Both were beautiful-- ". . . Each a queen By virtue of her brow and breast; Not needing to be crowned, I mean, As I do. E'en when I was dressed, Had either of them spoke, instead Of glancing sideways with still head! But no: they let me laugh and sing My birthday-song quite through . . ." and so, all trust and gaiety, she had gone down arm-in-arm with them, and taken her state on the "foolish throne," while everybody applauded her. Then had come the moment when Gauthier stalked forth; and from the older mind, now pondering on that infamy, a flash of bitter scorn darts forth-- "Count Gauthier, when he chose his post, Chose time and place and company To suit it . . ." for with sad experience--"knowledge of the world"--to aid her, she can see that the whole must have been pre-concerted-- "And doubtlessly ere he could draw All points to one, he must have schemed!" * * * * *