Now of a sudden he strode towards her, and as he came her bosom swelled, her lashes drooped, for it seemed he meant to clasp her to his heart. But lo! being only man, my Beltane paused and trembled, and dared not touch her, and sinking before her on his knees, spake very humbly and with head low-bowed.
"Helen--show me a little mercy!" he pleaded. "Would'st that I abase myself? Then here--here behold me at thy feet, fearing thee because of my unworthiness. But O believe--believe, for every base doubt of thee this heart hath known, now doth it grieve remorseful. For every harsh and bitter word this tongue hath spoke thee, now doth it humbly crave thy pitiful forgiveness! But know you this, that from the evil hour I drave thee from me, I have known abiding sorrow and remorse, for without thee life is indeed but an empty thing and I a creature lost and desolate--O Helen, pity me!"
Thus spake he, humble and broken, and she, beholding him thus, sighed (though wondrous softly) and 'neath her long lashes tears glittered (though swift dashed away) but--slowly, very slowly, one white hand came out to him, faltered, stopped, and glancing up she rose in haste and shrank away. Now Beltane, perceiving only this last gesture, sprang up, fierce-eyed: "How?" quoth he, "am I then become a thing so base my presence doth offend thee--then, as God liveth, ne'er shalt see me more until thou thyself do summon me!"
Even as he spake thus, swift and passionate, Giles clambered the adjacent wall and dropping softly within the garden, stared to behold Beltane striding towards him fierce-eyed, who, catching him by the arm yet viewing him not, spun him from his path, and coming to the green door, sped out and away.
Now as Giles stood to rub his arm and gape in wonderment, he started to find the Duchess beside him; and her eyes were very bright and her cheeks very red, and, meeting her look, poor Giles fell suddenly abashed.
"Noble lady--" he faltered.
"Foolish Giles!" said she, "go, summon me my faithful Roger." But as she spake, behold Roger himself hasting to her through the roses.
"Roger," said she, frowning a little, "saw you my lord go but now?"
"Aye, verily, dear my lady," quoth he, ruffling up his hair, "but wherefore--"
"And I," said Giles, cherishing his arm, "both saw and felt him--"
"Ha," quoth Roger, "would'st have him back, sweet mistress?"
"Why truly I would, Roger--"
"Then forsooth will I go fetch him."
"Nay--rather would I die, Roger."
"But--dear lady--an thou dost want him--"
"I will bring him by other means!" said the Duchess, "aye, he shall come despite himself," and her red lips curved to sudden roguish smile, as smiling thus, she brought them to a certain arbour very shady and remote, and, seating herself, looked from one tanned face to the other and spake them certain matters, whereat the archer's merry eyes grew merrier yet, but Roger sighed and shook his head; said he: "Lady, here is tale shall wring his noble heart, methinks, wherefore the telling shall wring mine also--"