“Speak,” he said, with a strong gesture of the hand.
“The bracelet I found in a room they gave me here,” she said, “hid in a chest with other stuffs. What is it to you, Tristan, that you pull so wry a face?”
“Madame,” he said, with great passion in his eyes, “I saw this last upon my sister’s arm.”
“Tristan——”
“My God, then, Ogier spoke the truth.”
Rosamunde’s expression changed, like one who hears the stealthy step of an enemy on the grass. Her eyes dilated, her face paled. She thrust out a hand and pointed Tristan to a thicket.
“Pandart comes. Quick, hide.”
“Who is Pandart?”
“My jailer.”
“Then God deliver him,” said Tristan, with his mouth like iron.