“Let us go, dear comrade. We have no friends now—save each other. How dark this wood is!”
“Where would you go?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“Ah! what a question! Where? Into the deep woods with the wild things, and so somewhere where our faces are not known. I would live a little while yet, Martin, for life can be sweet—now.”
He looked at her strangely.
“Yes; you are too beautiful to die.”
The horse that Martin had ridden had wandered off into the wood, but Fulk de Lisle’s was at his service. Moreover, the dead man’s sword and dagger might have their uses, and for the better carrying of them Martin took Fulk’s belt and buckled it about him.
“I like it not,” he said; “but necessity is our master.”
He helped Mellis to her saddle, unfastened the horses, and mounted Fulk de Lisle’s. Then he hesitated, looking into Mellis’s eyes, for he knew not where to turn.
“Which way?”