De la Foret smiled, then looked grave, as he caught sight of Angele’s face. “‘Tis arrest, then?” he asked.
“‘Tis come willy nilly,” answered the Seigneur. “And once they’ve forced you from my doors, I’m for England to speak my mind to the Queen. I can make interest for her presence—I hold court office,” he added with puffing confidence.
Angele looked up at him with quick tears, yet with a smile on her lips.
“You are going to England for Michel’s sake?” she said in a low voice.
“For Michel, or for you, or for mine honour, what matter, so that I go!” he answered, then added: “there must be haste to Rozel, friend, lest the Governor take Lempriere’s guest like a potato-digger in the fields.”
Putting spurs to his horse, he cantered heavily away, not forgetting to wave a pompous farewell to Angele. De la Foret was smiling as he turned to Angele. She looked wonderingly at him, for she had felt that she must comfort him, and she looked not for this sudden change in his manner.
“Is prison-going so blithe, then?” she asked, with a little uneasy laugh which was half a sob.
“It will bring things to a head,” he answered. “After danger and busy days, to be merely safe, it is scarce the life for Michel de la Foret. I have my duty to the Comtesse; I have my love for you; but I seem of little use by contrast with my past. And yet, and yet,” he added, half sadly, “how futile has been all our fighting, so far as human eye can see.”
“Nothing is futile that is right, Michel,” the girl replied. “Thou hast done as thy soul answered to God’s messages: thou hast fought when thou couldst, and thou hast sheathed thy blade when there was naught else to do. Are not both right?”
He clasped her to his breast; then, holding her from him a little, looked into her eyes steadily a moment. “God hath given thee a true heart, and the true heart hath wisdom,” he answered.