Her tone did not stir the man from his reserve of gravity. Her words were indeed like so many ripples breaking against a rock. The voice retorted to her calmly from the helmet.
"Madame, leave matters to my discretion."
She smiled in his face despite herself, a smile half of petulance, half of relish.
"You pretend to wisdom, sir."
"Forethought, madame."
"Am I your prisoner?"
"No new thing, madame; I have possessed you since you ventured into these shadows."
He made a gesture with his spear, holding it at arm's length above his head, where it quivered like a reed in his staunch grip. A sound like the moving of a distant wind arose. The dark alleys of the wood grew silvered with a circlet of steel. The shafts of the sunset flickered on pike and bassinet, gleaming amid the verdured glooms. Again the man's spear shook, again the noise as of a wind, and the girdle of steel melted into the shadows.
"Madame is satisfied?"
She sucked in her breath through her red lips, and was mute.