ed her to mount. She appeared over-anxious to leave the
shepherd's hut; the jester, on the other hand, cast a backward glance
at the poplar, the hovel, the brook. A crisp, clear caroling of birds
followed them as they turned from the lonely spot.

So they rode, pausing betimes to rest, and even then she had little to
say, save once when they stopped at a rustic bridge which spanned a
stream. Both were silent, regarding the horses splashing in the water
and clouding its clear depths with the yellow mud from its bed. From
the cool shadows beneath the planks where she was standing, tiny fish,
disturbed by this unwonted invasion, shot forth like darts and vanished
into the opaque patches. Half-dreamily watching this exodus of
flashing life from covert nook and hole, she said unexpectedly:

"Who is it that has wedded the princess?"

For a moment he did not answer; then briefly related the story.

"And why did you not tell me this before?" she asked when he had
finished.

"Would you have credited me--then?" he replied, with a smile.

Quickly she looked at him. Was there that in her eyes which to him
robbed memory of its sting? At their feet the water leaped and
laughed; curled around the stones, and ran on with dancing bubbles.
Perhaps he returned her glance too readily; perhaps the recollection of
the ride the night before recurred over-vividly to her, for she gazed
suddenly away, and he wondered in what direction her thoughts tended,
when she said with some reserve:

"Shall we go on?"

They had not long left the brook and the bridge, when from afar they
caught sight of the regal chateau and the clustering progeny of
red-roofed houses at its base. At once they drew rein.

"Shall we enter the town, or avoid it by riding over the mead?" said
the _plaisant_.

"What danger would there be in going on?" she asked. "Whom might we
meet?"

Thoughtfully he regarded the shining towers of the royal residence.
"No one, I think," he at length replied, and they went on.

Around the town ran a great wall, with watch-towers and a deep moat,
but no person questioned their right to the freedom of the place; a
sleepy soldier at the gate merely glancing indifferently at them as
they passed beneath the heavy archway. Gabled houses, with a tendency
to incline from the perpendicular, overlooked the winding street; dull,
round panes of glass stared at them, fraught with mystery and the
possibility of spying eyes behind; but