"I would have done that long since, Jacqueline, if I had had my will," he replied.
"Are you strong enough to attempt it?" she remarked, doubtfully, scanning the thin face before her.
"Your words shall make me so," he retorted, and looking into his glittering eyes, she almost believed him.
"Not to-day, but to-morrow," the girl added, thoughtfully. "Perhaps then—"
"I shall be ready," he broke in impatiently. "What must I do?"
"Not drink this wine I have brought, but give it to the turnkey in the morning. Invite him to share it, but take none yourself, feigning sudden illness. He will not refuse, being always sharp-set for a cup. Nothing can be done with the other jailers, but this one is a thirsty soul, ever ready to bargain for a dram. Your couch cost I know not how many flagons. Although he drinks many tankards and pitchers every day, yet will this small bottle make him drowsy. You will leave while he is sleeping."
"In the daylight, mistress?" he asked, eagerly. "Why not wait—"
"No," she said, decisively; "there is no other way. This turnkey is only a day watchman. It is dangerous, but the best plan that suggested itself. I know many unfrequented corridors and passages through the old part of the castle the king has not rebuilt, and a road at the back, now little used, that runs through the wood and thicket down the hill. It is a desperate chance, but—"
"The danger of remaining is more desperate," he interrupted, quickly. "Besides, we shall not fail. It is in the book of fate." His expression changed; became fierce, eager. "Are you, indeed, the arbiter of that fate; the sorceress Triboulet feared?"
"You are thinking of the duke," she answered, with a frown, "and that if you escape—"