Blue eyes, long and heavy-lashed! Surely blue eyes were fairest in a woman? And then the voice of her, liquid and soft like the call of merle or mavis. And she was a nun! How white and slim her hands, yet strong and resolute, as when she grasped the dagger 'gainst Sir Gilles; aye--resolute hands, like the spirit within her soft and shapely body. And then again--her lips; red and full, up-curving to sweet, slow smile, yet withal tinged with subtle mockery. With such eyes and such lips she might--aye, but she was a nun--a nun, forsooth!
"Messire!" Beltane started from his reverie. "Art cold, messire?"
"Cold!" stammered Beltane, "cold? Indeed no, lady."
"Nay, I--I know not. In sooth, do I so, lady?"
"Verily, sir, and therewith sigh, frequent and O, most dolorous to hear!"
Now at this, my Beltane finding naught to say, straightway sighed again; and thus they rode awhile, speaking nothing.
"Think you we are safe, messire?" she questioned him at last.
"Thou hast done right valiantly to-night on my behalf," says she. "How came you in at the window?"
"Art very strong, messire, and valiant beyond thought. Thou hast this night, with thy strong hand, lifted me up from shameful death: so, by right, should my life be thine henceforth." Herewith she sighed, leaning closer upon his breast, and Beltane's desire to see her face grew amain.
"Messire," said she, "methinks art cold indeed, or is it that I weary thee?"
"Nay, thou'rt wondrous easy to bear thus, lady."
"And whither do ye bear me, sir--north or south? And yet it mattereth nothing," says she, soft-voiced, "since we are safe--together!" Now hereafter, as Beltane rode, he turned his eyes full oft to heaven-- yearning for the moon.
"What woods be these, messire?" she questioned.
"'Tis the wilderness that lieth betwixt Pentavalon and Mortain, lady."
"Yea, verily," he answered, and sighed full deep. And as he sighed, lo, in that moment the moon peeped forth of a cloud-rift and he beheld the nun looking up at him with eyes deep and wistful, and, as she gazed, her lips curved in slow and tender smile ere her lashes drooped, and sighing, she hid her face against him in the folds of her mantle, while Beltane must needs bethink him of other eyes so very like, and yet so false, and straightway--sighed.