Maulfry did not appear at High March either the next day, or the next.
In fact, a week passed without any sign from her, which sufficed
Isoult to avoid the tedious attentions of the maids, and to attract
those of the Countess of Hauterive. This great lady had been prepared
to be gracious to the page for the sake of the master. She had not
expected the master to show his appreciation of her act by leaving her
alone. The two of them were very much together; Prosper was beginning
to court his wife. The Countess grew frankly jealous of Roy; and the
more she felt herself slipping in her own esteem, the more irritated
with the boy did she grow. She had long admitted to herself that
Prosper pleased her as no man had ever done, since Fulk de Bréauté was
stabbed on the heath. In pursuance of this she had waived the ten
years of age between herself and the youth. It seemed the prerogative
of her rank. If she thought him old enough, he was old enough,
pardieu. If she went further, as she was prepared to do; if she said,
"You are old enough, Prosper, for my throne. Come!" and he did not
come, she had a sense that there was lèse majesté lurking where
there should only be an aching heart. The fact was, that she began to
hate Roy very heartily; it would not have been long before she took
steps to be rid of him, had not fortune saved her the trouble, as must
now be related. Isoult, it is to be owned, saw nothing of all this.
Having once settled herself on the old footing with her lord and
master, wherein, if there was nothing to gain, there was also nothing
to lose, the humble soul set to work to forget her late rebellion, and
to be as happy as the shadow of Maulfry and the uncompromising shifts
of the enamoured Melot would allow. As for Prosper's courting, it
shall be at once admitted that she discerned it as little as the
Countess's malevolent eye. He hectored her rather more, expected more
of her, and conversed with her less often and less cheerfully than had
been his wont. It is probable that he was really courting his wounded
susceptibilities.
About a week after the adventure of the bed-chamber, as she was
waiting in the hall with the crowd of lacqueys and retainers, some one
caught her by the arm. She turned and saw Vincent.
He was hot, excited, and dusty, but very much her servant, poor lad.
"Dame Maulfry is here," he whispered her.
"Where?"
"You will see her soon. She is tricked in the figure of a dancing
woman, an Egyptian. She will come telling fortunes and shameful tales.
And she means mischief, but not to you."