Then he laughed, remembering something she had said to him the night before.
The door of the hall stood open. Fulk left his sword and dagger lying on the daïs table, and went to search for her in the garden, but no one answered when he called. He had reached the dial on its pedestal when he caught sight of the blue tunic and the white shift hanging on the willow tree, and he saw, too, that the mere was troubled, and that ripples were moving, although there was no wind.
Fulk stepped into the boat, and through the mist that still hung thinly over the water saw Isoult swimming in the mere. She had circled the island, and was keeping towards the farther bank, and her face, turned towards him, seemed to float upon the water.
“Isoult.”
Her laughter came over the mere.
“What, awake at last, sluggard!”
She lifted a white arm.
“I can ride with you, and shoot with you, and I would match you in the water. There’s a challenge!”
His man’s laughter, deep and quiet, crossed over to meet hers.
“Perhaps I should be beaten!”