“Fully prepared,” she rejoined. “Return to your place of concealment, lest he should appear suddenly.”
“No, I will remain here, and brave his anger,” said Osbert.
“Oh, do not act thus rashly!” she exclaimed. “You can render me no aid, and will only place yourself in needless peril.”
“I have no desire to live. Let the tyrant wreak his utmost vengeance upon me if he will. Ha! he comes,” he cried, as the key grated in the lock, and the door opened.
It was not the King, however, but Rodomont Bittern who entered.
“Just as I expected!” exclaimed Rodomont. “Prudence is not to be looked for in a lover. I was certain I should find you talking to your mistress, and therefore I came to warn you that the King will be here directly. Back to the ambry at once.”
“No more hiding for me,” returned Osbert. “I shall remain where I am.”
“And be sent to the Tower, and have your head chopped off for your pains,” observed Rodomont. “What service will that do to Mistress Constance?”
“It will only tend to make me more wretched,” she rejoined. “If you love me,” she added to Osbert, “you will not expose yourself to this great danger.”
“There, you cannot resist that!” cried Rodomont. “Back to the ambry at once,” he continued, pushing him towards it. “And as you value your head, do not stir till the coast is clear.”