She was Jehane Saint-Pol, Jehane 'of the Fair Girdle,' so called by her lovers and friends, to whom for a matter of two years this hot-coloured, tallest, and coldest of the Angevins had been light of the world.
The check upon their greeting was the most curious part of a curious business, that one should have travelled and the other watched so long, and neither urge the end of desire.

The Count sat still upon his horse, so for duty's sake did the aching abbot; the girl stood still in the entry-way, holding up her dripping torch.

Then, 'Child, child,' cried the Count, 'how is it with thee ?' His voice trembled, and so did he.
She looked at him, slow to answer, though the hand upon her bosom swayed up and down.
'Do you see the fires ?' she said.

'They have been there six nights.' He was watching them then through the pine-woods, how they shot into the sky great ribbons of light, flickered, fainted out, again glowed steadily as if gathering volume, again leaped, again died, ebbing and flowing like a tide of fire.
'The King will be at Louviers,' said Richard.

He gave a short laugh.
'Well, he shall light us to bed.