His hand pressed her head to his breast, and once more he kissed her hair. "He shall not take you," he said. "No one shall take you from me; no one shall come between you and me." Beatrix's eyes seemed to drink out of his the meaning of the words he spoke. "Promise me that," she said, knowing that he would promise her the world. "I promise it with all my heart." "On your knightly faith?" She smiled as she insisted. "On my honour and faith." "And on the faith of love, too?" She almost laughed, out of sheer happiness. "On the very truth of true love," he answered. "Then I am quite safe," she said, and she hid her face against his surcoat. "I am glad I came to you, I am glad that I was so bold as to send for you this day, for it is the best day of my whole life. And, Gilbert, you will not wait till I send for you another time? You will try and see me--of your own accord?" She was altogether in anxiety again, and there was a look of fear and sadness in her eyes. "I will try--indeed I will," he said earnestly. "Whenever you do, you shall succeed," she answered, nestling to him. "I wish I might shut my eyes and rest here--now that I know." "Rest, sweet, rest!" A moment, and then, from far away, a clarion call rang on the still air. With the instinct of the soldier, Gilbert started, and listened, holding his breath, but still pressing the girl close to him. "What is it?" she asked, half frightened. It came again, joyous and clear. "It is nothing," he said. "It is the Christmas banquet, and perhaps the King drinks the Queen's health--and she his." "And perhaps, though no one knows it, she--" But Beatrix stopped and laughed. "I will not say it! Why should I care?" She was thinking that if the Queen drank a health it might be meant, in her heart, for the Guide of Aquitaine, and she nestled closer to him in the sunshine. CHAPTER XXII A week the army stayed in camp by the pleasant waters of the Maeander, and daily at noon Gilbert and Beatrix met at the same place. She told him that she had not seen her father again, and believed that he had left the camp. The Queen knew that the lovers met, but she would not hinder them, though it was cruel pain to think of their happiness. Many have spoken and written evil things of Eleanor, for she was a haughty woman and overbearing, and she feared neither God nor man, nor Satan either; but she had a strong and generous heart, and, having promised, she kept her word as well as she could. She would not send for Gilbert, nor see him alone, lest she should fail of resolution when her eyes looked on him too closely. Beatrix knew this and took heart, and the veil of estrangement was lifted between her and Gilbert.