'Let me pray.' But as he insisted, urging, leaning to her, she drew her head back and lifted to his view her face, blanched with pure patience.
'O King Christ,' she prayed, 'take from my soiled hand this sacrifice!' She prayed to Christ, but looked at Richard.

He dared speak for Christ.
'What sacrifice, my child ?' 'I give Thee the hero who has lain upon my breast; I give Thee the marriage-bed, the cap of the Count.

I give Thee the kisses, the clinging together, the vows, the long bliss where none may speak.

I give Thee the language of love, the strife, the after-calm, the assurance, the hope and the promise.

But I keep, Lord, the memory of love as a hostage of Thine.' King Richard, breathless now, looked in her face.