“That which thou dost desire is above thee. Yet must thou stoop to attain it.”
On the further speech she did not care to dwell. This utterance sufficed her. Quick-witted, she saw very clearly the significance therein. It behooved her merely to act upon it. Here was a delicate matter, requiring careful handling. She had no mind to see herself caught in the meshes she would spread for another, a thing just possible to her shrewd thinking. She must throw the light cords deftly, that no breath of fancy should recoil them on herself. This, for all the seeming poetry of the task, would require an exceeding level head, a cool and very calculating judgment.
With care she conned the part she saw herself about to play, marked her entrance with the meshes, made very sure of her exits. Having it to her mind at her finger tips she waited for Chance to set the stage.
To leave matters to Chance is at times to leave matters half way to the Devil. An’ he is so minded he will come the other half to meet them. Verily to my thinking he did so now, took them in hand and arranged them with age-old skill, exceeding simply. And to this purpose he used a garden for his first setting.
Isabel walking in the garden one morning of soft air and sunshine saw Peregrine by the sundial. A favourite position this for our Jester.
Seating herself on the stone balustrade of the terrace she raised her hand, beckoned him to her. He came, stood before her, his eyes alight like a child’s who has been called by a close friend.
“I am weary,” she said softly.
“Truly, Madam!” quoth Peregrine very astonished. Here was no day for weariness. Sun-kissed, splendid in light and colour, the earth breathed vitality and joy.
“Of my own company,” said Isabel, smiling at his look.