"Halt! Who comes there?" one of them sang out.
It was the voice of Margaret. Its challenge was more like a phrase of music than a demand. He dismounted.
"I am one of the great army of lovers," said he.
"Advance and give the countersign," she commanded.
A moment he held her in his embrace and then he whispered: "I love you."
"The countersign is correct, but before I let you pass, give me one more look into your heart."
"As many as you like--but--why?"
"So I may be sure that you do not blame England for the folly of her King."
"I swear it."
"Then I shall enlist with you against the tyrant. He has never been my King."