"You must go now," she whispered. "You will get into trouble again through me."
The boy threw a quick furtive glance along the whitewashed passage. With characteristic recklessness he had forgotten that the chances of his summary dismissal were looming exceedingly near.
He had left half his work undone the previous night, he had appeared late that morning, and now he was in a part of the building to which all the grooms and stable helpers were forbidden entrance.
"You'll let me bring you home," he pleaded.
Arithelli shook her head. "You can't."
"Is Emile coming for you? You shall not go alone, that I swear!"
"Emile will send someone. They never let me go alone. If you will, you may do this. If I am not down at the stables at half-past eight to-morrow, will you find Emile and ask him to come to me. He will be there doing my work."
"And you will sleep and be well to-morrow? To-morrow you will ride again, and there will be the applause."
Even as he spoke he knew his words were foolishness. The feverish skin, dry lips and eyes that were like burning holes in the thin oval face were signs and tokens enough for the most unseeing of men. And Vardri had suffered sufficiently himself to be able to recognise genuine illness.
She slipped from his arms.