In this time he had grown paler; on his face youth was no more to be viewed than in the strange fire in his eyes and the dead-white and even complexion; his mouth curled by dissimulation, his sidelong glance, and the sensitive quivering of his muscles belonged already to later years.
Looking up, billhook in hand as a horseman struck sparks from the ride by the walk, he recognized Philip Taverney.
He moved towards the hedgerow. But the cavalier urged his horse towards him, calling out:
“Hey, Gilbert!”
The young man’s first impulse was for flight, for panic seized him and he felt like racing over the garden and the ponds themselves.
“Do you not know me, Gilbert?” shouted the captain in a gentle tone which was understood by the incorrigible youth.
Comprehending his folly, Gilbert stopped. He retraced his steps but slowly and with distrust.
“Not at first, my lord,” he said trembling: “I took you for one of the guards, and as I was idling, I feared to be brought to task and booked for punishment.”
Content with this explanation, Philip dismounted, put the bridle round his arm and leaning the other hand on Gilbert’s shoulder which visibly made him shudder, he went on:
“What is the matter, boy? Oh, I can guess; my father has been treating you with harshness and injustice. But I have always liked you.”