"Saw you trace of other gypsies at or near that place?" asked the knight, continuing his examination of the forester.
"No, Sir Amory. That is, we saw no humans, but there was a booth partly built close at hand."
"What is the material of the prisoner's dress?"
"Deer-skin, Sir Amory, nothing less."
At this moment a tapestry was drawn aside, and a lady, appearing on the dais, stood beside her husband with a look of inquiry. She was followed by one bearing in her arms a child, at sight of which the prisoner was surprised into a momentary start as of recognition.
"My dear," said Sir Amory, "will you favor us by glancing at yonder gypsy and telling if ever you have set eyes on him before?"
The lady looked in the direction indicated, but shook her head. Ere she could speak, however, the maid, who had followed her gaze, uttered a cry, and exclaimed,—
"It is the very one, my lady. The youth, I mean, who danced with that dreadful bear and saved the life of my little mistress."
"Yes," said the lady, slowly. "I did not recognize him on the moment; but now me-thinks he is the same from whose hands I received my child, safe and unharmed, though blood-bespattered. But, Amory, what is he doing here? A prisoner and under guard! Surely——"
"It is all a mistake," cried the knight, rising to his feet in great agitation. "He is not a prisoner, but an honored guest. Nor is he under guard, but under the protection of one who owes to him a life dearer than his own. Gentlemen, the hearing is dismissed; the prisoner is honorably acquitted, and will hereafter be known as my friend, if indeed he can forgive the cruel wrong I meditated against him. Away, ye varlets. Bring food and wine. Fetch warm water and clean napery, salve and liniments. Body o' me! The youth is wounded and hath had no attention. He looks ready to drop with weakness. Draw a settle for him beside the fire. Fetch——"