'Sir, it is not the part of a betrothed spouse to take thought. My vows were renewed of my own free will and it were sacrilege to try to recall them for the first real temptation.' She spoke steadily, but the effort ached through her whole frame, especially when the last word illumined John Plantagenet's face with strange sweet light, quenched as his lip trembled, his nostril quivered, his eye even moistened, as he said, 'It is enough, lady; I will no more vex one who is vexed enough already; and you will so far trust me as to regard me as your protector, if you should be in need?' 'Indeed I will,' said Esclairmonde, hardly restraining her tears. 'That is well,' said Bedford. And he neither looked at her nor spoke to her again, till, as he led her away in the procession from the hall, he held her hand fast, and murmured: 'There then it rests, sweet lady unless, having taken counsel with your own heart, you should change your decree, and consult some holy priest. If so, make but a sign of the hand, and I am yours; for verily you are the only maiden I could ever have loved.' She was still in utter confusion, in the chamber where the ladies were cloaking for their return, when her hands were grasped on either side by the two Burgundian princesses. 'Sweet runaway, we have caught you at last! Here, into Anne's chamber. See you we must! How is it with you? Like you the limping Scot better than Boemond?' laughed the Dauphiness, her company dignity laid aside for school-girl chatter. 'If you cannot hold out,' said Anne, 'the Scot seems a gentle youth; and, at least, you are quit of Boemond.' 'Yes,' said Marguerite, 'his last prank was too strong for the Duke: quartering a dozen men-at-arms on a sulky Cambrai weaver till he paid him 2000 crowns. Besides, it would be well to get the Scottish king for an ally. Do you know what we two are here for, Clairette? We are both to be betrothed: one to the handsome captive with the gold locks; the other to your hawk-nosed neighbour, who seemed to have not a word to say.' 'But,' said Esclairmonde, replying to the easiest part of the disclosure, 'the King of Scots is in love with the Demoiselle of Somerset.' 'What matters that, silly maid?' said Marguerite 'he does not displease me; and Anne is welcome to that melancholy duke.' 'Oh, Lady Anne!' exclaimed Esclairmonde, 'if such be your lot, it would be well indeed.' 'What, the surly brother, of whom Catherine tells such tales!' continued Marguerite. 'Credit them not,' said Esclairmonde. 'He never crosses her but when he would open her eyes to his brother's failing health.' 'Yes,' interrupted Marguerite; 'my lord brother swears that this king will not live a year; and if Catherine have no better luck with her child than poor Michelle, then there will be another good Queen Anne in England.' 'If so,' said Esclairmonde, looking at her friend with swimming eyes, 'she will have the best of husbands--as good as even she deserves!'