The student glanced at Florian, and smiled.
“Mother,” said he, “I must away to the convent. Methinks it were better for gentle Florian to rest him here awhile. I will return anon, and accompany my fellow scholar along the shores of the lake to the monastery.”
He kissed the cheek of the fair boy, and departed. Looking up into the rosy face, and catching the glance of the bright blue eye of the modest youth, the dame exclaimed, as she finished the dressing of the wound:
“Fair sir, if it please thee to grace our humble tenement with thy presence for the night, thou canst share the bed of my son. Methinks it were best for thee not to stir hence until the morrow.”
“I thank thee, kind lady,” the youth began, in a voice as sweet as infancy.
“Lady, say’st thou? I am but a peasant woman.”
Florian blushed.
“Nay, pardon me—I meant no offence. Indeed, it seemed—”
The youth paused, while the blush deepened on his cheek.
“Never heed it, fair sir. This way is Leone’s room. Mayhap thou wouldst like to repose thee awhile.”