"I understand this at least. Madame, you talk of happiness. I am finding happiness at this moment that I never felt at court,—no, nor in the wilderness till now."
She did not draw back nor protest, but she looked at me with wistful gravity.
"Monsieur—— Monsieur"——
"I am your servant, madame."
She halted. "This is a masque, a comedy," she stumbled. "This—this life in the greenwood. Does it not seem a fantasy?"
"You seem very real to me, madame."
"Monsieur, I tell you, it is a masque. Will you not help me play it as such?"
"You treat it as a masque in your own heart, madame?"
She turned her face into the shadow. "I eat, I sleep, I laugh with the birds, and I play with Singing Arrow. I do not look ahead." She rose. "Play with me. Play it is a dream, monsieur."
I rose and stepped beside her toward her cabin. "I am a man," I said, with a short laugh of my own. "I cannot spin words nor cheat myself. But I shall not distress you. Do not fear me, madame."