To such harangues, delivered with a pretty air of mockery and
extravagance, which was never allowed to get out of hand, Isoult
listened as she had listened to the cheerful prophetics of the Abbess
of Gracedieu, with her gentle smile and her locked lips. Maulfry
talked by the hour together while she and Isoult sat weaving a
tapestry. For the philosopher which it seemed she was, the subject of
the piece was very pleasant. It was the story of Troilus and
Cresseide, no less, wherein Sir Pandarus, (departing from the custom)
was represented a young man of tall and handsome presence, and the
triangle of lovers like children. Diomede was an apple-cheeked school-
boy, Troilus had a tunic and bare legs, Cresseide in her spare moments
dandled a doll. Calchas, for his part, kept a dame-school in this
piece, which for the rest was treated with a singular freedom. Isoult,
poor girl, was occasionally troubled at her part of the work; but the
philosopher laughed heartily at her.
"What ails thee with the piece, child?" she would cry out in her
hearty way. "Dost thou think lovers are men and women, to be taken
seriously? It is to be hoped they are not, forsooth! For if they are
not innocent, what shall be said of their antics?" and more to the
same tune.
While affecting to treat her with freedom, Maulfry kept in reality a
steady rein.
"Go out?" she would cry in mock dismay, at the least hint of such a
wish from the girl--"why under the sun should we go out? To see a
thicket of twigs and breathe rotten vapours? Or do you think we have
processions passing in and out of the tree-trunks? Ah, minx, 'tis a
procession of one you would be spying for! Nay, nay, never look big
eyes at me, child. I know your processioner better than you. He will
come in his time; and whether he come through the door or down the
stairs I cannot tell you yet. Who taught you, pray, that he was in the
wood? Not I, I vow. Why should he not be skulking in the blue alcove
awaiting the hour? You look thither; how you kindle at a word! Well,
well, go and see for yourself if he is in the blue alcove."
Poor trembling Isoult went on tiptoe, was fool enough to peep through
the curtains, but good soul enough to take Maulfry's railing in fair
part. She got as much as she deserved, and the joke was none too good
perhaps; but as a trick, it sufficed to keep her on the fine edge of
expectation. She dared not go out for fear of missing Prosper. She
grew so tight-strung as to doubt of nothing. Had Maulfry told her he
would be with them to supper on such and such a night, she would have
come shaking to the meal, rosy as a new bride, nothing doubting but
that the next lift of her shy eyes would reveal him before her. Thus
Maulfry by hints in easy degrees led her on; and not only did she not
dare to go out, but she lost all wish to peer for him in the wood,
because she had been led to the conviction that he was actually in the
tower--a mysterious, harboured visitant who would appear late or soon,
obedient to his destiny. A door even was pointed at, smiled and winked
at, passed by light-foot as they went along the gallery. Maulfry had a
biting humour which sometimes led her further than she was aware.