"Indeed, it had been better," she said,
still with her face averted, and gazing downward at the tree-tops
beneath, "it had been far better had we never met. For this love of
ours has proven a tyrannous and evil lord. I have had everything, and
upon each feast of will and sense the world afforded me this love has
swept down, like a harpy--was it not a harpy you called the bird in
that old poem of yours?--to rob me of delight. And you have had
nothing, for he has pilfered you of life, giving only dreams in
exchange, my poor Antoine, and he has led you at the last to infamy.
We are as God made us, and--I may not understand why He permits this
despotism."
Thereafter, somewhere below, a peasant sang as he passed supperward
through the green twilight, lit as yet by one low-hanging star alone.
Sang the peasant:
"King Jesus hung upon the Cross,
'And have ye sinned?' quo' He,--.
'Nay, Dysmas, 'tis no honest loss
When Satan cogs the dice ye toss,
And thou shall sup with Me,--
Sedebis apud angelos,
Quia amavisti!'
"At Heaven's Gate was Heaven's Queen,
'And have ye sinned?' quo' She,--
'And would I hold him worth a bean
That durst not seek, because unclean,
My cleansing charity?--
Speak thou that wast the Magdalene,
Quia amavisti!'"
"It may be that in some sort the jingle answers me!" then said Jehane;
and she began with an odd breathlessness, "Friend, when King Henry
dies--and even now he dies--shall I not as Regent possess such power
as no woman has ever wielded in Europe? can aught prevent this?"
"It is true," he answered.
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