But you have scattered them." "You grieve me," she rallied him.

"For assuredly they were pleasant, since, to come here and indulge them, you left--us." "Aye--they were pleasant," he answered.

"And yet, they were fraught with a certain sadness, but idle as is the stuff of dreams.

They were yours to dispel, for they were of you." "Of me ?" she questioned, her heart-beats quickening and bringing to her cheeks a flush that she thanked the night for concealing.
"Yes, Madonna--of you and our first meeting in the woods at Acquasparta.
Do you recall it ?" "I do, I do," she murmured fondly.
"And do you recall how I then swore myself your knight and ever your champion?
Little did we dream how the honour that I sighed for was to be mine." She made him no answer, her mind harking back to that first meeting on which so often and so fondly she had pondered.
"I was thinking, too," he said presently, "of that man Gian Maria in the plain yonder, and of this shameful siege." "You--you have no misgivings ?" she faltered, for his words had disappointed her a little.
"Misgivings ?" "For being here with me.

For being implicated in what they call my rebellion ?" He laughed softly, his eyes upon the silver gleam of waters below.
"My misgivings are all for the time when this siege shall be ended; when you and I shall have gone each our separate way," he answered boldly.
He turned to face her now, and his voice rang a little tense.