The monks passed back into the sacristy. The candles on the altar were extinguished; the church was now in twilight, through which shone the soft red glow of the pyx-light.
Peregrine moved; and Pippo rose from his knees. Half way down the aisle he paused, slipped behind Peregrine, went back to the statue of Our Lady. At her feet he deposited his burden of cherry blossom, glanced up a moment half shyly at the tender face above him. Then turning swiftly he joined Peregrine without.
Peregrine, full of thought, had not noticed his absence. It was not till they were at the castle gates that he spoke.
“What hast thou done with the cherry blossom?” he demanded.
Pippo nodded his head backwards. “Oh, I left it down there,” he replied airily enough. But he did not say that the snowy flowers lay before the Madonna as a small token of penitence for his wandering thoughts. Instead he spoke on a sudden in very different fashion.
“Feel my muscle,” he said gravely, doubling back his arm.
CHAPTER VI
BALDA THE WITCH
THE days passed leisurely up at the castle, naught of vast import to mark their flight. June was now in, the month of roses, with long sunny days, with nights of brief duration.
Isabel, finding time hang somewhat heavy on her hands, turned yet closer attention to our Jester. Her interest in him had not waned; I am by no means sure that it had not increased. Recognizing his homage, she yet felt there was that in him which eluded her. Seeking to discover it she found herself baffled. While tantalizing it yet spurred her to further interest. Musing on the thought in her idle hours the desire to discover that which eluded her became somewhat of an obsession. She carried it with her throughout the day, took it to her couch as bedfellow.