All the men flatter her."
"'Tis well there are some to flatter me," said her Grace, showing her
white teeth. "Thou dost not. But 'tis always so when a poor woman weds
a man and tramps by the side of him instead of keeping him at her
feet."
And then they led their old host on to talk, and told him stories of
what gipsies did, and of their living in tents and sleeping in the
open, and of the ill-luck which sometimes befel them when the lord of
the manor they camped on was a hard man and evil tempered.
"'Tis a Duke who rules over Camylott, is't not?" the old fellow asked.
"Ay," was her Grace's answer, nodding her head. "He is well enough, but
his lady--Lord! but they tell that she was a vixen before her marriage
a few years gone!"
"I have seen her," said his Grace. "She is not ill to look at, and has
done us no harm yet."
"Ay, but she may," says her Grace, nodding wisely again. "Who knows
what such a woman may turn out. I have seen _him_!" She stopped, her
elbows on the little round wooden table, her chin on her hands, and
gave her saucy stare again. "I'll pay thee a compliment," she said. "He
is a big fellow, and not unlike thee--though he be Duke and thou naught
but a vagabond gipsy."
Their host had hearkened to them eagerly, and now he put in a question.
"Was not she the beauty that was married to an old Earl who left her
widow?" he said. "Was not she Countess Dunstanwolde?"
"Ay," answered her Grace, quietly.
Pages:
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358