"Thou foolish old woman!" she said to Perrote, as she took her work back. Then addressing Amphillis, she added,--"Seest thou, my maid, man hath poured away the sparkling wine out of reach of my thirsty lips; and this silly old Perrote reckons it of mighty moment that the empty cup be left to shine on the buffet. What matters it if the caged eagle have his perch gilded or no? He would a thousand times liefer sit of a bare rock in the sun than of a perch made of gold, and set with emeralds. So man granteth me the gilded perch, to serve me on the knee like a queen, and he setteth it with emeralds, to call me Duchess in lieu of Countess, and he reckoneth that shall a-pay the caged eagle for her lost liberty, and her quenched sunlight, and the grand bare rock on the mountain tops. It were good enough for the dove to sit on the pigeon-house, and preen her feathers, and coo, and take decorous little flights between the dovecote and the ground whereon her corn lieth. She cares for no more. The bare rock would frighten her, and the sun would dazzle her eyes. So man bindeth the eagle by a bond long enough for the dove, and quoth he, `Be patient!' I am not patient. I am not a silly dove, that I should be so. Chide me not, old woman, to tug at my bond. I am an eagle." "Ah, well, Dame!" said Perrote, with a sigh. "The will of God must needs be done." "I marvel if man's will be alway God's, in sooth. Folks say, whatever happeth, `God's will be done.' Is everything His will?--the evil things no less than the good? Is it God's will when man speaketh a lie, or slayeth his fellow, or robbeth a benighted traveller of all his having? Crack me that nut, Perrote." "Truly, Dame, I am no priest, to solve such matters." "Then leave thou to chatter glibly anentis God's will. What wist any man thereabout?" Perrote was silent. "Open the window!" said the Countess, suddenly. "I am dying for lack of fresh air." Lifting her hand to her head, she hastily tore off the barb and wimple, with little respect to the pins which fastened them, and with the result of a long rent in the former. "That's for one of you to amend," she said, with a short laugh. "Ye should be thankful to have somewhat to do provided for you. Ay me!" The words were uttered in a low long moan. Perrote made no reply to the petulant words and action. An expression of tender pity crossed her face, as she stooped and lifted the torn barb, and examined the rent, with as much apparent calmness as if it had been damaged in the washing. There was evidently more in her than she suffered to come forth. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note 1. This action, in the estimation of the time, was merely equivalent to a cordial shaking of hands between the Countess and her deliverers. CHAPTER FIVE. NEW AND STRANGE. "I stretched mine empty hands for bread, And see, they have given me stones instead!" "B.M."