One that’s brown, I love her,
Till I see another
Browner is than she;
For I am a lover
Of my liberty.
A rustle behind him on his left made him turn his head. A figure stole out of the deep shadow of the buttress nearest the archway. He leapt up and was first in the gate, blocking it with open arms. “Ah,” he cried, “so titmice roost i’ the shade, ha? What ransom shall I have of thee for making me keep empty tryst last night? Ay, and wast creeping hence to make me a fool once more the night-long and I had not caught thee.”
The lady laughed. “Last night my father kept me by him; and to-night, my lord, wouldst thou not have been fitly served for thy shameless ditty? Is that a sweet serenade for ladies’ ears? Sing it again, to thy liberty, and show thyself an ass.”
“Thou art very bold to provoke me, madam, with not even a star to be thy witness if I quite thee for’t. These flamboys are old roisterers, grown gray in scenes of riot. They shall not blab.”
“Nay, if thou speakest in wine I’m gone, my lord;” and as he took a step towards her, “and I return not, here or otherwise, but fling thee off for ever,” she said. “I will not be entreated like a serving-maid. I have borne too long with thy forced soldier fashions.”
Corinius caught his arms about her, lifting her against his broad chest so that her toes scarce kept footing on the ground. “O Sriva,” he said thickly, bending his face to hers, “dost think to light so great a fire, and after walk through it and not be scorched thereat?”