"Monsieur," she was saying, "you are exhausted."
"But that I rode hard," I laughed, "it is likely they had taken me to Toulouse, were I might have lost my head before my friends could have found and claimed me. I hope you'll see it is too comely a head to be so lightly parted with."
"For that," said she, half seriously, half whimsically, "the ugliest head would be too comely."
I laughed softly, amusedly; then of a sudden, without warning, a faintness took me, and I was forced to brace myself against the wall, breathing heavily the while. At that she gave a little cry of alarm.
"Monsieur, I beseech you to be seated. I will summon my father, and we will find a bed for you. You must not retain those clothes."
"Angel of goodness!" I muttered gratefully, and being still half dazed, I brought some of my Court tricks into that chamber by taking her hand and carrying it towards my lips. But ere I had imprinted the intended kiss upon her fingers--and by some miracle they were not withdrawn--my eyes encountered hers again. I paused as one may pause who contemplates a sacrilege. For a moment she held my glance with hers; then I fell abashed, and released her hand.
The innocence peeping out of that child's eyes it was that had in that moment daunted me, and made me tremble to think of being found there, and of the vile thing it would be to have her name coupled with mine. That thought lent me strength. I cast my weariness from me as though it were a garment, and, straightening myself, I stepped of a sudden to the window. Without a word, I made shift to draw back the curtain when her hand, falling on my sodden sleeve, arrested me.
"What will you do, monsieur?" she cried in alarm. "You may be seen."
My mind was now possessed by the thing I should have thought of before. I climbed to her balcony, and my one resolve was to get me thence as quickly as might be.
"I had not the right to enter here," I muttered. "I--" I stopped short; to explain would only be to sully, and so, "Good-night! Adieu!" I ended brusquely.
"But, monsieur--" she began.
"Let me go," I commanded almost roughly, as I shook my arm free of her grasp.
"Bethink you that you are exhausted. If you go forth now, monsieur, you will assuredly be taken. You must not go."
I laughed softly, and with some bitterness, too, for I was angry with myself.
"Hush, child," I said. "Better so, if it is to be."