The Forest Lovers

The men made merry over this comedy, finding appetite for it; but to

the girl came back that elfin look she had almost lost since she had

known Prosper. She had worn it the night she came plump on Galors, but

never since. Now again hers were a hare's eyes, wide and quaking.

From that hour her peace left her, for Falve never did. Escape was

impossible; the man eyed her as a cat a mouse, and seemed to play upon

her nerve as if she had been a fine instrument. He became

astonishingly subtle, dealt in images like a modern poet, had the same

art of meaning more than he said to those who had the misfortune to

understand him. He never declared what he knew, though she could not

but guess it; did not betray her to the others; seemed to enjoy the

equivoque, content to wait. So he kept her on tenterhooks; she felt a

cheat, and what is worse, a detected cheat. This filled her deep with

shame. It made her more coy and more a prude than she had ever need to

be had she gone among them kirtled and coifed. At last came the day

when that happened which she had darkly dreaded. A load of coals went

off to Market Basing; to dinner came herself only, and Falve.

She trembled, and could neither eat nor drink. Falve made amends, ate

for three and drank for a dozen. He grew sportive anon. He sang tavern

songs, ventured on heavy play, would pinch her ear or her cheek, must

have her sit on his knee. But at this her fortitude gave way; she

jumped up to shake herself free. There was a short tussle. Her cap

fell off, and all the dusky curtain of her hair about her shoulders

ran rippling to her middle. No concealment could avail between them

now. She stood a maid confessed, by her looks confessing, who watched

him guardedly with lips a-quiver.

Falve did not hesitate to take her hand. "Come and see," he said, and

led her away. Across the brook he showed her a but newly made, covered

with green boughs--his work, it appeared, under the cover of a week of

sweating nights. He led her in, she saw all his simple preparations:

the new-stamped floor, the new-joisted roof, a great bed in the

corner. Then he turned to her and said-"Your name is not Roy, but Royne. And you shall be queen of me, and of

the green wood, and of this bed."

Isoult began to shake so violently that she could hardly stand.

"How! does not the prospect please you?" said Falve. She could only

plead for time.

"Time?" asked he, "time for what? There is time for all in the forest.

Moreover, you have had time."