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Come," she went on, springing to her feet,
and smoothing down her rumpled frock, "let us walk through the
shaw together, and we may come upon Bertrand with the horses. If
poor Troubadour had not cast a shoe, we should not have had this
trouble. Nay, I must have your arm: for, though I speak lightly,
now that all is happily over I am as frightened as my brave
Roland. See how his chest heaves, and his dear feathers all
awry--the little knight who would not have his lady mishandled."
So she prattled on to her hawk, while Alleyne walked by her side,
stealing a glance from time to time at this queenly and wayward
woman. In silence they wandered together over the velvet turf
and on through the broad Minstead woods, where the old
lichen-draped beeches threw their circles of black shadow upon
the sunlit sward.
"You have no wish, then, to hear my story?" said she, at last.
"If it pleases you to tell it me," he answered.
"Oh!" she cried tossing her head, "if it is of so little interest
to you, we had best let it bide."
"Nay," said he eagerly, "I would fain hear it.


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