Her judgment was never at fault; she was noble, and her sedate gravity showed her to be so.

She was no talker, and had great command over herself; but she was more pale than by ordinary, and her eyes were burning bright.

The truth was, she was in a fever of apprehension, restless, doomed, miserable; devouringly in love, yet dreading to be loved.

So, more and more evidently in pain, she walked her part through the blare of festival as Pentecost drew nigh.
'Upon that day,' to quote the mellifluous abbot, 'Upon that day when in leaping tongues the Spirit of God sat upon the heads of the Holy Apostles, and gave letters to the unlettered and to the speechless Its own nature, Count Richard wedded Dame Jehane, and afterwards crowned her Countess with his own hands.
'They put her, crying bitterly, into the Count's bed in the Castle of Poictiers on the evening of the same feast.

Weeping also, but at a later day, I saw her crowned again at Angers with the Count's cap of Anjou.