“But where shall I go, good Gando?” he asked.
“That I know not,” said the old man. “The further you go the better. You must leave behind you the boundaries of the kingdom. See, I have brought these peasant’s clothes for you to wear.”
“Nay, I still have my prince’s attire,” said Florimel.
“That will not serve,” said Gando. “If you donned it you would be quickly recognized, and your uncle would gain knowledge of you to your swift undoing.”
He assisted the bewildered Florimel to dress, swung across his back the quiver of arrows, and handed him the bow.
“This was your godmother’s gift,” he said, “and it might aid you.”
But, though Gando urged Florimel not to take the time, the latter printed something on a card which he tacked upon the outside of the door before they left the place.
As they fled toward a secret exit they heard down the corridor the stealthy tread of feet.
The duke snarled like a wild beast as he read the lines:
“FAREWELL, DEAR UNCLE! KEEP YOUR EDGED TOOL FOR FATTED SWINE!”