The Forest Lovers

With the other pages she waited behind her master's chair at supper.

He still sat at the Countess's right hand as the principal guest

(evidently) in her esteem, if not in degree. Isoult had prepared

herself for what was to come as best she could. She had expounded, as

you have been told, her simple love-lore to Alice of the Hermitage;

but it is doubtful if she had known how much like a cow beset by flies

in a dry pasture a lover may be made. Every little familiar gesture

was a prick. Their talk of things which had happened to them

counselled her to despair. When the Countess leaned to Prosper's chair

she measured how long this could be borne; but when by chance her hand

touched on his arm, to rest there for a moment, Isoult was as near

jealousy as a girl, in the main logical by instinct and humble by

conviction, could ever be. Then came doubt, and brought fear to drag

her last hand from the rock and let her fall. Fear came stealthily to

her, like a lurking foe, out of the Countess's unconscious eyes.

Isoult had nothing to hope for that she had not already: she knew that

now she was blessed beyond all women born; she loved, she was near her

beloved; but her heart was crying out at the cold and the dark. There

was love in the Countess's looks; Isoult could not doubt it. And

Prosper did not take it amiss. Here it was that Isoult was blind, for

Prosper had no notions whatever about the Countess's looks.

He was in very high spirits that supper. He liked Isoult to be by him

again, liked it for her sake as well as for the sake of the escapade.

He had watched her a good deal during the day, and found her worth

perusal. She had picked up her good looks again, went bravely dressed

in his livery of white and green, with his hooded falcon across her

bosom and embroidered slantwise upon the fold of her doublet. Thus she

made a very handsome page. She was different though. He thought that

there was now about her an allure, a grave richness, a reticence of

charm, an air of discretion which he must always have liked without

knowing that he liked it. Yet he had never noticed it before. The

child was almost a young woman, seemed taller and more filled out. No

doubt this was true, and no doubt it braved her for the carrying of

her boy's garnish, otherwise a risky fardel for a young woman. He was

pleased with her, and with himself for being pleased. So he was very

merry, ate well, drank as the drink came, and every time Isoult

brought him the cup he looked at her trying to win an answer. Since no

answer was to be had he was forced to be satisfied with looking. Once

or twice in serving him their hands touched. This also pleased him,

but he was shocked to find this rosy girl with the shining eyes had

hands as cold as ice. And he so well disposed to her! And she his

wife! He pursued his researches in this sort at the cost of more

stoups of wine than were needful or his rule. He grew enthusiastic

over it, and laid up a fine store of penalties for future settlement.

The enthusiast must neglect something; Prosper, being engrossed with

his page and his wine, neglected the Countess. This lady, after

tapping with her foot in her chamber till the sound maddened her,

withdrew early. Immediately she had gone Prosper announced great

fatigue. He sent for his page and a torch. Isoult escaped from the

noisy herd round the buttery fire, lit her torch at a cresset,

disregarded Melot languishing in a dark corner, and met her lord in

mid hall.