He was puzzled at this new mood that had come with the archery and still tarried—this careless gayety under circumstances which, hitherto, would have made her severe and distant. He was so used to being frowned upon, reproved, and held at the point that he was quite blind to the change it signaled. He bent his eyes on his horse's mane. He thought of the King's words as to the kerchief and longed for a bit of his astute penetration and wonderful tact, that he might solve this provoking riddle beside him and lead up to what was beating so fiercely in his breast. In his perplexity he looked appealingly toward her.
She was watching him with the same amused smile she had worn since the fixing of the skirt; and was guessing, with womanly intuition, what was passing in his mind.
"And forsooth, Sir King of the Bow," she said—and the smile rippled into a laugh—"are you so puffed up by your victory that you will not deign to address me, but must needs hold yourself aloof, even when there is none to see your condescension! … Perchance even to ride beside me will compromise your dignity. Proceed… Proceed… I can follow; or wait for the grooms or the scullions with the victual carts."
And this only increased De Lacy's amazement and indecision.
"Why do you treat me so?" he demanded.
"Do you not like my present mood?" she asked. "Yea, verily, that I do! but it is so novel I am bewildered… My brain is whirling… You are like a German escutcheon: hard to read aright."
"Then why try the task?"
"I prefer the task," he answered. "It may be difficult, yet it has its compensations."
"You flatterer," she exclaimed; and for an instant the smile became almost tender.
"Pardieu! … You grow more inexplicable still… Yesterday I would have been rated sharply for such words and called presumptuous and kindred names."