With the sun rose Isoult, transfigured and glorified, Love's rosy
priest. She slipped from her man's arms, hung over him wonderfully,
lightly kissed his forehead without disturbing his deep sleep. Then
she went to bathe herself in the pool, and to bind up her hair. The
woodland was jewelled with dew, it went in misty green and yellow, all
vocal of the joy she had. She was loved! she was loved!
Fresh and full of light she came dancing back, without a trace of the
haggard beauty upon her which had stolen about the ways of Holy Thorn.
Her mouth had the divine childishness, the rippling curves of the
naked god's bow; her eyes were glossy-soft and rayed a light from
within. Warm arms stole round Prosper, a warm cheek was by his, warm
lips kissed him awake. The duet, as of two low-answering doves,
began-"Is this Isoult la Desirous who cometh?"
"You called me Desirée."
"How long sought, how long prayed for!"
"Found now, and close at last."
"Closer yet, closer yet."
"Oh heart, oh desire! Prosper!"
"Yes."
"Tell me one thing."
"Ask."
"When began you to think of me?"
"Will you put me to shame, Isoult?"
"Never, never! There is no shame in you. Look what I am."
"The purest, the loveliest, the bride of all delight!"
"You are a great lord; and I----"
"The great lord's lady--out of his reach."
"Prosper! No, no. If I am out of reach, reach not for me. Tell me
instead what I ask you."
"But you know when I began, and what you said."
"Ah, it was then?"
"No, it was not then. It was after that. It was when I knew that you
loved me."
"Did you not know from the first? Oh, what men must be! And I called--
as I was called."
"La Desirous? Ah, yes. Tell me now why that was?"
"Yes, I will tell you now." She hid her face on his breast and
whispered her story. "I was twelve years old--a sheepgirl on Marbery
Down. There are many, many herds there, and five of us that kept them
that day, huddling together to be warm. For I was cold enough--in rags
as you have seen me, but worse; my shoulder and side went bare then.
Then there came riding over the brow a company of lords having falcons
on their wrists; and I stood up to watch them fly their birds. There
was an old man, tall and very noble, with white hair and beard, and a
brown keen face; and there were others, young men, and one was a lad,
his son. The lad it was who flew his bird at a heron. The falcon shot
up into the air; she towered over my head where I stood, and after
stooped and fell upon me, and clung to my raiment, pecking at my
heart. And I cried out at the sharpness of the pain, and wrestled with
the falcon to get her off me, but could not for the battling of her
sails. Then the lad, the owner of the hawk, rode up to me and took
away the bird and killed her. He was a ruddy lad, with the bright blue
eyes of his father; but his hair was long and yellow as gold. To me he
gave money, and what was dearer than money and rarer, gentle words.
For he said--'Maiden, my haggard hath done thee a wrong, and I through
her. But when I am a man I will amend it.' Now the wound over my heart
kept fresh and could never be healed; and I was thought shameful for
that, because men said I went bleeding for love. And God knows it was
a true saying."