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THE STORY AND SONG OF
‘“Look only on luck,” quoth she, “oh, ancient one, lest my heart break even now.” I spread her pink fingertips out as one would unruffle a rose, and read therein her fate.’
‘And what read you there?’ said the Black Earl, impatient with her delay.
‘I read,’ quoth the crone, ‘and if I say, thou must keep thy anger from me, for what I read I had not written:
‘I traced upon her slender palm
That luck was changing soon;
I swore that peace would come to her
Before another moon.
‘I said that he who loved her well
Would robe her all in silk,
And bear her in a coach of gold,
With palfreys white as milk.
‘I told, before three suns had set
He'd kneel down by her side;
That he she loved would love her well,
And she would be his bride.
