"I was in prison, lord."
He remembered then that she might have stayed in prison for all his
help. He began to be ashamed of himself.
"Child," he said more gently, "I did wrong to be angry; but you must
never thwart my plans. The boy loved you?"
"Few have loved me," said she, "but he loved me."
"Ah! Did he tell you so?"
"Yes, lord."
"And what did you say to that, Isoult?"
"I told him how love should be."
"So, so. And how do you think that love should be?"
"Thus, lord," said Isoult, looking to Vincent's heart.
Prosper turned pale. There were deeps, then, of which he had never
dreamed.
"Isoult," he said, "did you love this boy who so loved you?"
She shook her head rather pitifully. "Ah, no!"
"But yet you told him how he should love you?"
"Nay, lord, but I told him how I should love."
"You must have studied much in this science, my child."
"I am Isoult la Desirous, lord."
Prosper turned away. There was much here that he did not understand,
and that night before he went to sleep at her door he kissed her
forehead--it would have been her hand if his dignity had dared--and
then they prayed together as once in the forest.
Afterwards he was glad enough to remember this.