“No fire, no raging heat,
Like secret love can burn;
All silent, yet how sweet,
And to the world unknown.”
THUS sang Amrie in the morning, standing before the fire, while all in the house were yet asleep. The stable-boy, who had risen early to give the horses their first feed, came into the kitchen for a coal to light his pipe.
“Why up so early,” he asked, “before the sparrows begin to twitter?”
“I am mixing a warm draught for the cow in calf,” answered Barefoot, stirring in meal and clover, but without looking round.
“I and the upper servant sought you last evening at the dance, but you could not be found,” said the boy. “True, you did not want to dance; you were satisfied to be made a fool of by the stranger Prince.”
“He was no Prince, nor did he make a fool of me; and had he done so, I would rather be made a fool of by such as he, than to be made wise by thee or the upper servant.”
“Why did he not tell you who he is?”