Foulque was reconciled, when the talk came that way, to Garin’s early departure from Castel-Noir. Neither dreamed but that he, knight and able to help, must of course go. It was his _devoir_. But he might bide a few days. It would presently be seen if the place were indeed moderately safe, left a small, overlooked backwater. Foulque’s thin face worked with laughter. “Ha, Jaufre!—and what was it that he said touching flaying alive and razing your house? Jaufre makes me sport!” His thought drove aside from the pleasant spice of Jaufre’s men preserving just Castel-Noir. “And now he would wed the princess!” Garin, in his pacing, crossed a shaft of moonlight. “What manner of lady is the Princess Audiart?” “Not fair, but wise, they say. I know not,” said Foulque, “if women can be wise.” “Ah, yes, they may!” “I agree,” said Foulque, “that there is wisdom somewhere in not helping into the world sons of Jaufre, grandsons of Savaric!—It is said that the townspeople love the princess.” Garin crossed again the shaft of light. “No harm has come to Our Lady in Egypt?” “No harm that I have heard of. Count Savaric is known for a good son of the Church! He will not harm the bishop’s lands either. I hear report—I have heard that the Abbot of Saint Pamphilius saith—that if Montmaure conquers, Bishop Ugo will not be less but greater in Roche-de-Frêne.—But what,” said Foulque, “do I know in truth to tell you? A cripple, chained to this rock in a fir wood! Little of aught do I know—save that there is wickedness on earth!” He tried to be sardonic, but could not. “Eh!” said Foulque. “Three emirs? And at what did they hold their lives?” At last Castel-Noir slept, the fair moon looking down. The next day, still there held fairyland. When another day came, Garin took Paladin that had waited for him all these years, and, followed by Rainier, rode to Our Lady in Egypt. He wished to see the Abbess and ask of her a question. Eight years ago, come Martinmas, what lady had rested, a guest, with Our Lady in Egypt?