Instantly Fastrada sat up to listen, her narrowed eyes dry and hot, her face white, her lips drawn away from the teeth in two blood-red lines. She was so intent on following Roland's headlong flight that Duke Lupus glided out of the coppice and gained her side unheeded. With all his subtlety, the Vascon did not lack courage; but he could not restrain a shudder when he saw the look on the girl's face. He crossed himself hastily, and would have slipped back to the coppice, had not Fastrada turned and perceived him. For a little the two glared at each other. Fastrada was first to speak.
"Spy!" she hissed.
But Lupus had recovered from his first superstitious dread. Unheeding the scornful term, he bent eagerly forward and half whispered: "I am not blind, maiden. You burn for vengeance. Who has wronged you? Tell me! I can aid."
Fastrada shook her head sullenly; but her fury was too great to be repressed.
"Vengeance!" she cried fiercely. "You speak truth; I thirst for vengeance! Nothing will quench my thirst but the heart's blood of that false heathen. The base outlander sought my shame."
"Holy saints!" cried Lupus, in affected horror. But Fastrada saw the ironical smile which flitted across his face, and she knew that he had not been deceived. She drew back her head and watched him, like a snake whose way is barred. The duke's face instantly assumed a look of deepest significance, and he extended a white hand.
"Let me be your friend," he urged. "I also have wrongs to avenge. Join with me and my friends. We will aid you gladly."
"Already my wolf-hound follows the warm trail," rejoined Fastrada, and she laughed shrilly.
"Roland?"
The girl rocked to and fro, her hands clasped about her knee.