With the other pages she waited behind her master's chair at supper.
He still sat at the Countess's right hand as the principal guest
(evidently) in her esteem, if not in degree. Isoult had prepared
herself for what was to come as best she could. She had expounded, as
you have been told, her simple love-lore to Alice of the Hermitage;
but it is doubtful if she had known how much like a cow beset by flies
in a dry pasture a lover may be made. Every little familiar gesture
was a prick. Their talk of things which had happened to them
counselled her to despair. When the Countess leaned to Prosper's chair
she measured how long this could be borne; but when by chance her hand
touched on his arm, to rest there for a moment, Isoult was as near
jealousy as a girl, in the main logical by instinct and humble by
conviction, could ever be. Then came doubt, and brought fear to drag
her last hand from the rock and let her fall. Fear came stealthily to
her, like a lurking foe, out of the Countess's unconscious eyes.
Isoult had nothing to hope for that she had not already: she knew that
now she was blessed beyond all women born; she loved, she was near her
beloved; but her heart was crying out at the cold and the dark. There
was love in the Countess's looks; Isoult could not doubt it. And
Prosper did not take it amiss. Here it was that Isoult was blind, for
Prosper had no notions whatever about the Countess's looks.
He was in very high spirits that supper. He liked Isoult to be by him
again, liked it for her sake as well as for the sake of the escapade.
He had watched her a good deal during the day, and found her worth
perusal. She had picked up her good looks again, went bravely dressed
in his livery of white and green, with his hooded falcon across her
bosom and embroidered slantwise upon the fold of her doublet. Thus she
made a very handsome page. She was different though. He thought that
there was now about her an allure, a grave richness, a reticence of
charm, an air of discretion which he must always have liked without
knowing that he liked it. Yet he had never noticed it before. The
child was almost a young woman, seemed taller and more filled out. No
doubt this was true, and no doubt it braved her for the carrying of
her boy's garnish, otherwise a risky fardel for a young woman. He was
pleased with her, and with himself for being pleased. So he was very
merry, ate well, drank as the drink came, and every time Isoult
brought him the cup he looked at her trying to win an answer. Since no
answer was to be had he was forced to be satisfied with looking. Once
or twice in serving him their hands touched. This also pleased him,
but he was shocked to find this rosy girl with the shining eyes had
hands as cold as ice. And he so well disposed to her! And she his
wife! He pursued his researches in this sort at the cost of more
stoups of wine than were needful or his rule. He grew enthusiastic
over it, and laid up a fine store of penalties for future settlement.
The enthusiast must neglect something; Prosper, being engrossed with
his page and his wine, neglected the Countess. This lady, after
tapping with her foot in her chamber till the sound maddened her,
withdrew early. Immediately she had gone Prosper announced great
fatigue. He sent for his page and a torch. Isoult escaped from the
noisy herd round the buttery fire, lit her torch at a cresset,
disregarded Melot languishing in a dark corner, and met her lord in
mid hall.