“Surely a man can see with his own eyes!”
“With a sack tied over his head! Here is something for a woman to laugh at.”
She came nearer.
“What! Have they tied you up? I had a feeling that you and Merlin had come to the dagger point. Has he spoken?”
“Spoken? It would have been his last sermon if those fellows yonder had given me three more minutes.”
She knelt down beside him and he felt her fingers moving over his face.
“Lie very still.”
Isoult took the knife from her girdle, thrust the point through the sacking, slit it crosswise, and turned back the flaps. A haze of grey light was streaming into the cell, but it was not strong enough to show her the set and rigid hostility of his face.
“So Merlin has spoken. Now, good comrade, do you see the light?”
His lips moved stiffly, ironically.