The Forest Lovers

"Oh, Galors," she began, "thou hast been my enemy declared for no

fault of mine, and dreadful wrong hast thou done to many harmless folk

who had never wronged thee. Yet, if I had never won back what was

mine, and still owed thee a living grudge instead of a grudge for the

unhappy dead, for the sake of her thou bringest me I must receive thee

here. Now give me that which thou didst promise. Let me see her."

Prosper stood melted by the pent passion of the woman, but by her

words stricken dumb. He understood that she should think him Galors,

and cared little if she did, for discovery must make his case the

stronger. But what she wanted with Isoult, what Galors had promised on

her score, passed all comprehension. He thought he knew enough of the

Countess to be sure she would not lightly forgive; yet here was the

Countess asking to see the girl who had made a fool of her! Withal her

need was painfully plain. He therefore took Isoult by the hand and led

her forward.

The Countess, shaking so that she could hardly stand, caught the girl

from him. But she could not look at her, only steadied herself by

clutching at her arms.

"Let me see the token," says she in an eager whisper.

So then Isoult unfastened her gown and took it out by its golden

chain.

The Countess received it in both hands as a relic. Yet hand and head

shook too much that she might see it. The poor lady held her wrist

with the other hand, lifted it up near her face; then she blinked her

eyes close to it. So for some time she remained, looking upon the

jewel, but seeing nothing, seeming to love the feel of it in her

hands, and crying all the while freely and noiselessly with streams of

tears down her cheeks. Next she dropped the crystal and took Isoult by

the shoulders, to peer in the same blind fashion into the girl's

wondering eyes. And then at last, with a little smothered cry, she

caught her to her bosom, straining her there with desperate hunger of

affection, while her tears and passionate weeping shook and shuddered

through her. In broken words, with sobs, half-moaning prayers, and

half-crazy thanksgivings, she spoiled herself of the tenderness and

frantic love a mother has, but no other under heaven.

Commanding herself in time, she raised her marred face high above her

daughter, who lay close in her arms, and turning to Prosper, said

steadily enough-"Galors, now declare thyself. Thou hast spoken so far the truth. This

is my true daughter, Pietosa de Bréauté, the daughter of my murdered

lord, Fulk de Bréauté, born in wedlock, and by me suffered to be

stolen away by him who first stole my body (but never my soul) from my

lord. Now ask of me, and I will give thee all, even to this treasure

at my breast. Declare thyself."