She leaned inertly back against the soft cushion of ivy. In the shadow the tint on her cheeks deepened, but below the sunlight played about her shoulders through leafy interspace, or crept in dancing spots down over her gown and arms.
"The duke would not be molested by these outlaws?" she continued, pursuing her line of questioning.
"The duke has a strong arm," he answered cautiously. "They may be well content to permit him to come and go as he sees fit."
"Well, well," she said, perversely, "I was only curious about the distance and the country."
"For leagues the land is wild, bleak, inhospitable, and then 'tis level, monotonous, deserted, so lonely the song dies on the wandering minstrel's lips. But the duke rides fast with his troop and soon would cover the mountain paths and dreary wastes."
"Nay," she interrupted impatiently, "I asked not how the duke would ride."
"I thought you wished to know, Princess," he replied, humbly.
"You thought"—she began angrily, sitting erect.
"I know, Princess; a fool should but jest, not think."
"Why do you cross me to-day?" she demanded petulantly. "Can you not see—"