“Ah!” said the Professor, “the Baron’s daughter. May I ask you, miss, what the old gentleman is so excited about? It is not one of the customs here for indignant parents to chase their children around the country, is it?”
“I had gone from the castle,” said the damsel, partly to the Hermit and partly to Professor Baffin, “to meet Sir Bleoberis at the trysting-place. My father was watching me, and as I neared the spot he rushed toward me with a drawn sword, threatening to kill me.”
“It is an outrageous shame!” exclaimed the Professor, sympathetically.
“I eluded him,” continued the sobbing girl, “and flew towards this place. When he saw me at last he gave chase. I am afraid he will slay me when he comes.”
“I think, perhaps, I may be able to reason with this person when he arrives,” said the Professor, rubbing his chin and looking at the hermit over the top of his spectacles. “The Baron ought to be ashamed of himself to go on in this manner! Tilly, wipe the poor creature’s eyes with your handkerchief. There now, dear, cheer up.”
Just then the Baron rushed into the cell, with his eyes flaming, and his breath coming short and fast.
He was a large man, with a handsome face, thick covered with beard. He was dressed in doublet, trunks and hose, and over one shoulder a mantle hung gracefully. His sword was in its sheath, and it was manifest that he had repented of his murderous purpose.
“Where is that faithless girl?” he demanded in a voice of thunder.
Ysolt had hidden behind Matilda Baffin.
“Say, priest, where have you secreted her?”