Howbeit I am inclined to believe that the kerchief was no saintly thing, and had never come near the body of the blessed Colette, but rather was a gift from one of the cordelier's light-o'-loves.

Assuredly it was stained red with blood from my lungs ere I could utter two words.
The Maid stanched the blood, saying-- "Did I not bid thee to be silent?
The saints forgive my lack of faith, whereby this blessed thing has failed to heal thee! And now I must be gone, to face the English in the field, if they dare to meet us, which, methinks, they will not do, but rather withdraw as speedily as they may.
So now I leave thee with this holy man to be thy nurse-tender, and thou canst write to him concerning thy needs, for doubtless he is a clerk.
Farewell!" With that she was gone, and this was the last I saw of her for many a day.
Never have I known such a horror of fear as fell on me now, helpless and dumb, a sheep given over to the slaughter, in that dark chamber, which was wondrous lown, {26} alone with my deadly foe.
Never had any man more cause for dread, for I was weak, and to resist him was death.

I was speechless, and could utter no voice that the people in the house might hear.

As for mine enemy, he had always loathed and scorned me; he had a long account of vengeance to settle with me; and if--which was not to be thought of--he was minded to spare one that had saved his life, yet, for his own safety, he dared not.

He had beguiled the Maid with his false tongue, and his face, not seen by her in the taking of St.Loup, she knew not.