Leaving the hall out of which opened the
refectory, they mounted a stone stair to the upper chambers, and entered
one of them.
Here they saw a strange and piteous sight. On a bed, about which candles
still burned, lay a young woman who had been very beautiful, arrayed in
a bride's robe.
"Dead of the plague," said Hugh, "and deserted at her death. Well, she
had better luck than many, since she was not left to die alone. Her
dress and these candles show it."
"Ay," answered Dick, "but fear took the watchers at last and they
are fled. Well, we will fill their place, and, if they do not return
to-morrow, give her honourable burial in her own courtyard. Here be
fine lodgings for us, master, so let us bide in them until the rightful
owners cast us out. Come, David, and help me raise that drawbridge."
Fine lodgings these proved to be indeed, since, as they found, no house
in Avignon was better furnished with all things needful. But, and this
will show how dreadful were the times, during these days that they made
this their home they never so much as learned the name of that poor lady
arrayed in the bride's dress and laid out upon her marriage bed.
In the butteries and cellar were plentiful provisions of food. Having
eaten of it with thankfulness, they chose out one of the bed-chambers
and slept there quite undisturbed till the morning sun shone in at the
window-places and awoke them.
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