he asked in a low tone.

But, to his wonder, the Queen's brow darkened, and her eyes were
suddenly hard; she almost dropped the cross in her hurry to stand
upright, nor would she again turn her eyes to look at him.




CHAPTER XII


In the late dusk of summer Bernard went his way from the place where he
had preached, to the presbytery of Saint Mary Magdalen, where he was to
lodge that night. The King and Queen walked beside him, their horses
led after them by grooms in the royal liveries of white and gold; and
all the long procession of knights and nobles, priests and laymen,
gentlefolk and churls, men, women, and children, streamed in a motley
procession up the road to the village. As they went, the King talked
gravely with the holy man, interlarding and lining his sententious
speeches with copious though not always correct quotations from the
Vulgate. On Bernard's other side Eleanor walked with head erect, one
hand upon her belt, one hanging down, her brows slightly drawn
together, her face clear white, her burning eyes fixed angrily upon the
bright vision cast by her thoughts into the empty air before her.

She had used the only means, and the strongest means, of bringing
Gilbert back to France; she had foredreamt his coming, she had
foreknown that from the first he would ask for Beatrix; but she had
neither known nor dreamt of what she should feel when he, standing at