did not believe the monk
would long pursue a solitary pilgrimage, for varlets of that kind have
common haunts and byways. The encounter suggested hazard ahead as well
as the danger of pursuit from the palace. But this apprehension of a
new source of peril he kept from his companion; since go on they must,
there was no need to disquiet her further.

The mystic silver light of the day had now become golden; the sky,
brilliant, many-colored, overdomed the vast, sullen earth; between two
roseate streamers a whitish crescent unobtrusively was set. Seemingly
misplaced in a sanguinary sea, passionless it lay, but as the ocean of
light grew dull the crescent kindled. Over a thick patch of pine trees
in the distance myriads of dark birds hovered and screamed in chorus.
Now they circled restlessly above that shaded spot; then darted off, a
cloud against the sky, and returned with renewed cawing and discord.
As the riders approached the din abruptly ceased, the creatures
mysteriously and suddenly vanishing into the depths of the thicket
below.

In the fading light, fool and jestress drew rein, and, moved by the
same purpose, looked about them. On the one hand was the deserted,
desolate plain over which lay a sullen, gathering mist; on the other,
the sombrous obscurity of the wood. Everywhere, an ominous silence,
and overhead the crescent growing in luster.

"Do you see any sign of house or inn?" said the girl, peering afar down
the road, which soon lost itself in the general monotony of the
landscape.

"None, mistress; the country seems alike barren of farmhouse or tavern."

"What shall we do? I am full weary," she confessed.

"The forest offers the best protection," he reluctantly suggested.
Little as he favored delay, he realized the wisdom of sparing their
horses. Moreover, her appeal was irresistible.

She gazed half-dubiously into that woody depth. "Why not rest by the
wayside--in the moonlight?"

"I like not the open road," he answered. "But if you fear the
darkness--"

For answer she guided her horse to the verge of the forest and lightly
sprang to the ground. Upon a grassy knoll, but a little way within, he
spread his cloak.

"There, Jacqueline, is your couch," he said.

"But you?" she asked. "To rob you thus of your cloak seems
ill-comradeship."

"The cloak is yours," he returned. "As it is, you will find it but a
hard bed."

"It will seem soft as down," she replied, and seated herself on t