“Come with me; you will soon be safe and happy.”
“Where are we going?”
“To my cave; it is snug enough for a princess.”
“A cave,—not a house? Who are you?”
“My best name is Fritz the Masterless. First I was a peasant and followed a stupid plough, then I was a swineherd, then a man-at-arms, then a lanzknecht and watched the roads, but all my band was cut to pieces, saving I, so I am now a poacher and a forest rover, and last of all, when the saints will, I shall be a gallows-bird, with a hemp collar and a dance on nothing, but zum! zum!—till then it is a merry life under the greenwood, a-following the deer.”
Agnes hung back.
“You are an evil man,” she said soberly; “I will not go with you.”
“And be left to wander under the trees, with never a house within these three leagues. Hoch! No, little lady; there is nothing gained by that. Come you do, will you, nill you.”
The clasp on her hand tightened. Agnes knew resistance was vain. She followed silently, but her lips twitched. Oh! if she had been only sinless enough to dwell with holy Jerome.