She was in a great mood, a rapt and pillared saint; but when mass was over and his thanksgiving to make, she got up and hid herself away from him in the shades.

There she lurked darkling, and he, lunging out, swept with his sword's point the very edge of her gown.

She did not hear him go, for he trod like a cat; but she felt him touch her with the sword, and shuddered once or twice.

He went out of the courtyard at a gallop.
While the abbot was reciting his own thanksgiving Jehane came out of her corner, minded to speak with him.

So much he divined, needing not the beckoning look she sent him from her guarded eyes.