"Thou art very quiet--"

"I know not what to say--"

"Nor I either; and yet I was dying with the wish to speak to thee--what
is thy name?"

"Vortigern."

"I am called Thetralde--pronounce my name."

"Thetralde--"

"I love to hear thee pronounce my name."

"Where do you think the hunt is now?" asked the young Breton with
increasing uneasiness. "It will be difficult to find the hunters. The
mist grows ever denser."

"Should we lose ourselves," Thetralde replied laughing, "I do not know
the paths of the forest."

"Why did you not, then, remain near the people of the court and the
seigneurs of the escort?"

"I saw thee running off rapidly, and I followed thee."

"That throws both you and me into a great perplexity."

"Art thou sorry to find thyself alone here with me?"

"Not at all!" cried Vortigern, "only I fear that this dense mist may
change into rain towards evening, and that you may get wet. We should
try and join the chase. Do you not think so?"

"In what direction shall we go?"

"It seemed to me a moment ago I heard the feeble sound of horns at a
great distance."

"Let us listen again," said Thetralde, bending her charming head to one
side, while Vortigern sought to listen from the opposite side.

"Dost thou hear anything?" queried the Emperor's daughter raising her
sweet voice and addressing Vortigern, who stood at a little distance. "I
can hear nothing."

"Nor I either," rejoined the young Breton.

"Here we are lost!" cried the young girl laughing merrily. "And if night
overtakes us, what a terrible thing!"

"And you laugh at such a plight?"

"Is it that thou art afraid, and thou a soldier?" But immediately the
handsome face of Thetralde assumed an uneasy look and she observed:
"Does thy wound hurt thee, my brave companion?"

"I am not thinking of my wound. I am only uneasy at perceiving that the
mist grows still thicker. How can we regain our route? Whither could we
go?"

"But I do wish to speak of thy wound," replied Charles' daughter with
infantine impatience. "Why is not thy arm any longer protected by a
scarf, as it was yesterday?"

"It would have incommoded me in the chase."

Thetralde quickly detached her long belt of Tyrean silk and held it out
to Vortigern. "Take this, my belt will take the place of thy scarf, and
sustain thy arm."

"It is unnecessary, I assure you."

"Bad boy!" cried Thetralde, holding out her belt to Vortigern; and
fixing upon him her beautiful blue