"
"Your Grace is alone?"
"Since you followed me, you know it. Come."
She almost pushed him aside to pass out, and a moment later they were
crossing the dark open space before the church. Gilbert was not easily
surprised, but when he reflected that he was walking late at night
through a small French village with one of the most powerful sovereigns
in Europe, who was at the same time the most beautiful of living women,
he realized that his destiny was not leading him by common paths. He
remembered his own surprise when, an hour earlier, he had seen the
Queen's unmistakable figure pass the open window of his lodging. And
yet should any one see her now, abroad at such an hour, in the company
of a young Englishman, there would be much more matter for
astonishment. Half boyishly he wished that he were not himself, or else
that the Queen were Beatrix. As for his actual position in the Queen's
good graces, he had not the slightest understanding of it, a fact which
just then amused Eleanor almost as much as it irritated her. The road
was uneven and steep beyond the little square. For some moments they
walked side by side in silence. From far away came the sound of many
rough voices singing a drinking-chorus.
"Give me your arm," said Eleanor, suddenly.
As she spoke, she put out her hand, as if she feared to stumble. Doing
as she begged him, Gilbert suited his steps to hers, and they were very
close together as they went on. He had never walked arm in arm in that
way before, nor perhaps had he ever been so close to any other woman.
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