Then all was question and curiosity, one side as eager to hear as the other. The countess and her _meinie_ asking news of Ralph de Guader and Montfort; the Brittany folks as anxious to learn how she had fared, and how escaped. The countess learned with joy that Ralph was at Montfort, scarce forty miles away, preparing with might and main an expedition for the relief of Blauncheflour. 'Had she not seen the warships in the harbour?' they asked. We may guess how quickly messengers were sent off to Montfort, and how Ralph mounted in hot haste as soon as they told him that his countess had come, with all her gallant garrison, and how he galloped to meet them as fast as his steed could gallop. No doubt he sighed that he had not Oliver under him then. Emma and her following got what horses they could, and started for Montfort. The August sun shone hotly from the blue continental sky, and the apples were turning yellow and red in the orchards along the road. As noon came on, the travellers, having ridden some fifteen miles on very sorry beasts, were fain to rest them at a wayside hostel. The countess and her ladies ascended the ladder that served for a staircase to the upper chamber, and, while food was preparing below, lay down upon the rushes to rest their weary limbs. The countess occupied a low pallet bed that stood in a corner of the room, and so utterly weary and broken down was she, that she could not even rejoice at thought of seeing her husband speedily. She soon fell into a heavy slumber, broken by dreams of the dreadful past more terrible even than the reality. She heard again the din of the warrewolves and mangonels, and the crash of the stones flung by them as they struck the walls, the clash of swords and clangor of armour; and the terror and woe of it overcame her. She awoke with a scream. Throwing out her arms wildly, her hands came in contact with a man's mailed gauntlets, and she sprang up, crying, 'Blauncheflour is taken! To the rescue! to the rescue!' 'Dost thou not know me, my wife, mine own?' answered Ralph's voice, broken with sobs. 'Would to God I had never left thee!' Emma burst into hysterical laughter, and threw herself upon her husband's breast, sobbing for joy. 'I was dreaming, Ralph! Would all bad dreams might end as happily.' Then they sat down side by side upon the bed, and looked in each other's faces. They were alone, for Emma's ladies had delicately withdrawn when the earl entered, knowing that they would rather be in private. 'How pale thou art and thin, my sweet,' said Ralph, reproaching himself more and more bitterly that he had left her to struggle alone. 'I fear my poor face has lost its fairness, Ralph,' with an anxiety of tone that was all of love and naught of vanity.