“Look up, Hugo!” But Hugo bowed his head the lower.
“Hast wondrous hair, Hugo—red gold 'neath thy hood!”
Here came a slim, white hand to order the rebellious tress but, finding none, trembled and hid itself. Then very suddenly Jocelyn leaned near and caught this hand, clasping it fast yet with fingers very gentle, and spake quick and eager:
“Hugo—alas, Hugo! What bringeth thee in this evil place? Art in danger? Speak, speak!”
“Nay, here is no harm for me, Joconde. And I am hither come for sake of a poor Fool that is braver than the bravest—one did jeopardise his foolish life for sake of a maid, wherefore I, Hugo, do give him life. Take now this wallet, within is good store of gold and better—a potent charm to close all watchful eyes. Hist, Joconde, and mark me well! Ranulph o' the Axe is a mighty drinker—to-night, drawn by fame of thy wit, he cometh with his fellows. This money shall buy them wine, in the wine cast this powder so shall they sleep and thou go free.”
“Aye!” said Jocelyn, “and then?”
“There will meet thee a dwarf shall free thee of thy fetters, and by secret ways set thee without the city—then, tarry not, but flee for thy life—”
“Now by the Holy Rood!” quoth Jocelyn softly, “never in all this world was there prisoner so happy as this poor Fool! But, Hugo, an I win free by reason of a brave and noble lady, so long as she bide in Canalise, so long must I—”
My daughter GILLIAN interposeth:
GILL: O, father, now I understand—
Of course, this Hugo is Yolande!
MYSELF: Exactly, miss, the fact is clear;
But how on earth did she get here?
I don't want her here—
GILL: Why not?
MYSELF: Because, being here, she spoils my plot,
Which would drive any author frantic—
GILL: I think it's fine, and most romantic.
Besides, you know, you wrote her there—
MYSELF: She came—before I was aware—
GILL: She couldn't, father, for just think,
You've made her all of pen and ink.
So you, of course, can make her do
Exactly as you want her to.
MYSELF: Dear innocent! You little know
The trials poor authors undergo.
How heroines, when they break loose,
Are apt to play the very deuce,
Dragging their authors to and fro,
And where he wills—they will not go.
GILL: Well, since she's here, please let her be,
She wants to set Duke Joc'lyn free.
MYSELF: Enough—enough, my plans are made,
I'll set him free without her aid,
And in a manner, I apprise you,
As will, I fancy, quite surprise you.
Besides, a dungeon no fit place is
For a dainty lady's graces.
So, since she's in, 't is very plain
I now must get her out again.
“To bide in Canalise, 't is folly!” cried Hugo. “O, 't were a madness fond!”
“Aye,” sighed Jocelyn, “some do call love a madness—thus mad am I, forsooth!”