He got up at once to arm himself; he had made all his preparations
before sunrise. Then he left word for the Countess that he would
return in a day or two, and set out.
The journey could not be done under three days; that gave him two
nights in the forest, each of which brought the same dream. He arrived
at the convent late in the evening, and asked to see the Abbess at
once. The tranquil monotony of the place, its bells and recurrent
chimes, the subdued voices of the nuns chanting an office in choir,
brought him like a beaten ship into haven. He was reassured before he
saw the Abbess.
"Yes, indeed," said that lady in answer to his outburst of questions,
"the child is well. Not so bright as during the winter season, it may
be; but the spring is no easy time for young people. I may tell you,
Sir Prosper, that we have grown very fond of her. Indeed, I am often
saying that I wonder how to do without her. She is so diligent and of
so toward a disposition. You will find her well cared for, sleek, and
quite good-looking. We have great hopes for her future if she makes a
happy choice. But you will wish to see her and prove my words. I will
send for her this moment."
The Abbess had her hand-bell in her hand. If she had rung it she would
have given Prosper justification of his hurry. But the complacent
youth forestalled her.
"I beg you, mother, to do nothing of the kind," he said. "She is well,
you tell me, she is happy: that is all I cared to know. I have no wish
to unsettle her, but leave her cheerfully and confidently with you,
being well assured that you will not fail to send me word at High
March should need be."
"I understand you, sir, and agree with you. You may be quite easy
about her. We are regular livers, as you may guess, and small events
are great ones to us. So you return to High March? I will beg you to
carry with you my humble duty to her ladyship the Countess. She is
well?"
"She is very well," said Prosper, and took his leave.
A frantic Gracedieu messenger started half a night behind him, but was
stopped on Two Manors Waste by a party of outlaws, robbed of his
letters, and hanged. Prosper's dream visited him for two nights of his
journey back, and four nights at High March; but as no word or other
warning came from Gracedieu to give it point, he grew to have some
strange liking for it, since he knew that it meant nothing. It gave
him new thoughts of Isoult; it convinced him, for instance, that since
the girl was so good she must be affectionate when you came to know
her. His own share in the nightly performance he could now set in
humorous comparison with his waking state. He found it difficult to
believe in the self of his dream, and was almost curious to see Isoult
that he might pursue his juxtapositions. At this rate she filled his
waking thoughts as well as his nights. The Countess was not slow to
perceive that Prosper was changed, and she affected. His songs came
less willingly from him, his sallies were either languid or too polite
to be from the heart of the youth, who could make hers beat so fast.
Thinking that he wanted work, she devised an expedition for him which
might involve some danger and the lives of a dozen men. But she
counted that lightly. He went on the fourth day after his return from
Gracedieu, and the expedition proved effectual in more ways than one.