“Why so sad, sweet mistress? Am I not as good a man as any fellow yonder, and better than our friend the monk? I have won you on a fair field.”
Her eyes glanced at him with furtive dread.
“I know not who you are.”
He put up his vizor and she knew him by his eyes, bold, brown, and merciless.
“Ah!”
Her frank horror angered him, and he reached out and twisted his hand into her hair.
“What! Shall I have to tame you, teach you what manner of man I am? What others have had I will have also.”
“Beast!”
Her pride rose at his challenge.
“Let me go, or I will throw myself out of the saddle.”