The Queen scarcely glanced at
her.
Many men sprang forward when the danger was past, and they dragged
Beatrix out and began to get her horse upon his feet. Eleanor knelt by
Gilbert and tried to take his fingers from the bridle, but could not,
so that she had to loose the buckle from the long bars of the bit. Her
hands chafed his temples softly, and she bent lower and blew upon his
face, that her cool breath might wake him. There were drops of blood on
his forehead and on his chin, his cloth tunic was torn in many places,
and the white linen showed at the rents; but Eleanor saw only the look
in his face, serene and strong even in his unconsciousness, while in
the dream of his swoon he saved her life again.
In that moment, knowing that he could not see her, she thought not of
her own face as she gazed upon his, nor of hiding what she felt; and
the thing she felt was evil, and it was sweet. But suddenly there was
life in his look, with a gentle smile, and the strained fingers were
loosed with a sigh, and a long-unused word came from his lips.
"Mother!"
Eleanor shook her beautiful head slowly. Then Gilbert's face darkened
with understanding and the old pain clutched at his heart sharply, even
before the keen bodily hurt awoke in his wrung limbs. All at once
thought came, and he knew how, in a quick fall of his heart, he had
forgotten Beatrix and had almost given his life to save the Queen. As
if he had been stung, he started and raised himself on one hand, though
it was as if he forced his body among hot knives.
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