eBooks Base 2000

Her chin was in her hands, and the face defined by the slim fingers was
small and delicate, pale with the clear pallor of perfect health, and now
slowly flushing to some emotion. The little chin was firm, but the mouth
was pettish. Her teeth bit on a gold chain, which encircled her neck and
held a crystal reliquary. A spoiled pretty child, she looked, and in a
mighty ill temper.
The cause of it was a young man who stood disconsolately by a settle a
little way out of the lantern's glow. The dust of the white roads lay on
his bodyarmour and coated the scabbard of his great sword. He played
nervously with the plume of a helmet which lay on the settle, and lifted
his face now and then to protest a word. It was an honest face, ruddy with
wind and sun and thatched with hair which his mislikers called red but his
friends golden.
The girl seemed to have had her say. She turned wearily aside, and drew the
chain between her young lips with a gesture of despair.
"Since when have you become Burgundian, Catherine?" the young man asked
timidly.


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