Then the youth whispered something in her ear, and Ginevra, blushing brightly, said:
“Never, never!”
“Give me a favor to wear—the rose from thy hair, sweet lady. I, too, belong to the house and banner of the red.”
She loosed it from her shining tresses; he kissed the flower, put it in his bosom, and said:
“I would not give one of the least of these leaves for the King’s crown.”
Lightly he sprung to the saddle, without so much as touching his horse’s neck, lifted his plumed cap, and, followed by the page, on the red roan, dashed away into the forest. Ginevra and Geta watched them disappear among the black shadows, and then turned and sighed, they knew not why.
The Baron met them outside the castle gate.
“Where hast thou been, my child?” he asked.
“By Edith’s fountain, father.”
“And didst thou drop thy rose in it?”