The Life and Death of Richard Yea-and-Nay | Page 3

did he.
She looked at him, slow to answer, though the hand upon her bosom
swayed up and down.
'Do you see the fires?' she said. 'They have been there six nights.' He
was watching them then through the pine-woods, how they shot into
the sky great ribbons of light, flickered, fainted out, again glowed
steadily as if gathering volume, again leaped, again died, ebbing and
flowing like a tide of fire.
'The King will be at Louviers,' said Richard. He gave a short laugh.
'Well, he shall light us to bed. Heart of a man, I am sick of all this. Let
me in.'
She stood aside, and he rode boldly into the tower, stooping as he

passed her to touch her cheek. She looked up quickly, then let in the
abbot, who, with much ceremony, came bowing, his horse led by the
bridle. She shut the door behind them and drove home the great bolts.
Servants came tumbling out to take the horses and do their duty; Count
Eustace, a brother of Jehane's, got up from the hearth, where he had
been asleep on a bearskin, rubbed his eyes, gulped a yawn, knelt, and
was kissed by Richard. Jehane stood apart, mistress of herself as it
seemed, but conscious, perhaps, that she was being watched. So she
was. In the bustle of salutation the Abbot Milo found eyes to see what
manner of sulky, beautiful girl this was.
He watched shrewdly, and has described her for us with the meticulous
particularity of his time and temper. He runs over her parts like a
virtuoso. The iris of her eyes, for instance, was wet grey, but ringed
with black and shot with yellow, giving so the effect of hot green; her
mouth was of an extraordinary dark red colour, very firm in texture,
close-grained, 'like the darker sort of strawberries,' says he. The upper
lip had the sulky curve; she looked discontented, and had reason to be,
under such a scrutiny of the microscope. Her hair was colour of raw
silk, eyebrows set rather high, face a thinnish oval, complexion like a
pink rose's, neck thinnish again, feet, hands, long and nervous, 'good
working members,' etc. etc. None of this helps very much; too detailed.
But he noticed how tall she was and how slim, save for a very beautiful
bosom, too full for Dian's (he tells us), whom else she resembled; how
she was straight as a birch-tree; how in walking it seemed as if her
skirts clung about her knees. There was an air of mingled surprise and
defiance about her; she was a silent girl. 'Fronted like Juno,' he appears
to cry, 'shaped like Hebe, and like Demeter in stature; sullen with most,
but with one most sweetly apt, she looked watchful but was really timid,
looked cold but was secretly afire. I knew soon enough how her case
stood, how hope and doubt strove in her and choked her to silence. I
guessed how within those reticent members swift love ran like wine;
but because of this proud, brave mask of hers I was slow to understand
her worth. God help me, I thought her a thing of snow!'
He records her dress at this time, remarkable if becoming. It was all
white, and cut wedge-shaped in front, very deep; but an undervest of

crimson crossed the V in the midst and saved her modesty, and his. Her
hair, which was long, was plaited in two plaits with seed-pearls,
brought round her neck like a scarf and the two ends joined between
her breasts, thus defining a great beauty of hers and making a gold
collar to her gown. Round her smooth throat was a little chain with a
red jewel; on her head another jewel (a carbuncle) set in a flower, with
three heron's plumes falling back from it. She had a broad belt of gold
and sapphire stones, and slippers of vair. 'Oh, a fine straight maid,' says
Milo in conclusion, 'golden and delicate, with strangely shaded eyes.
They knew her as Jehane of the Fair Girdle.'
The brother, Count Eustace as they called him (to distinguish him from
an elder brother, Eudo Count of Saint-Pol), was a blunt copy of his
sister, redder than she was, lighter in the hair, much lighter in the eyes.
He seemed an affectionate youth, and clung to the great Count Richard
like ivy to a tree. Richard gave him the sort of scornful affection one
has for a little dog, between patting and slapping; but clearly wanted to
be rid of him. No reference was made to the journey, much was taken
for granted; Eustace talked of his hawks, Richard ate and drank, Jehane
sat up stiffly, looking into the fire; Milo watched her between his
mouthfuls. The