"This is Roy's answer to thee, Melot," she laughed, and kissed the
rogue.
But for Isabel, long a Countess--otherwise. This unhappy lady felt
herself whipped. Her abasement was now so deep, so desolately did she
stand among her dependents, a naked woman spoiled of all her robes,
that Prosper's honest heart smote him.
"Countess," he said, smiling, "will you give me what Galors might have
won?"
But Isoult did better still. She came back to her mother's breast, put
up her hand timidly and touched the cold cheek. "Mother," was all she
said. It was all the woman needed to cover her shame in a cloak of
warm tears. The two wept together, and then Prosper knelt to his
mother-in-law's hand.
But the Countess was stronger than he had thought. In truth, she never
spared herself any of her dignities. Her humility now became her
admirably; never was she more certainly the great lady of romance than
when she led Prosper and Isoult to the dais, set them each on a
throne, and then, turning to her people, opened her hands to them, her
heart, and her conscience.
"Lo! you now," she cried out, "heed what I shall speak. This is the
Lady Pietosa, called Isoult le Gai, my daughter indeed, Countess after
me of Hauterive, Lady of Morgraunt and the purlieus, whom I, unknowing
and to my shame, despised and misused--unworthy mother, that in trying
to befoul the spotless but stained herself the deeper. And you,
people, sheep of a hireling shepherd, followed in my ways and became
as I am, most miserable in shame. If now I lead you aright, follow me
also that road. You shall kneel therefore with me to the young
Countess and to the Earl (in her right), my Lord Prosper."
Before either could stop her she was on her knees at her daughter's
foot. Isoult dropped with a little cry, but the elder had her way. She
kissed the foot, and then stood by the throne to watch the homage
paid.
One by one they came sidling up. Melot was pushed into the front rank;
her shrewdness paid so much penalty. She knelt and laid her forehead
on the ground. Isoult lightly set her foot on the bowed head; but he
who watched the ceremony with dimmed eyes saw that the treader was the
humblest there.
Master Porges, flap-cheeked and stertorous, grovelled like a fat
spaniel. Prosper came to the rescue as he swam up to the height of a
man again, gasping for the air. "Ah, seneschal," he said, "we each
love honour and ensue it after our fashion. We should be better
acquainted."