The Forest Lovers

Walking the rounds at Hauterive the night of his coming there, a man

sprang out at Prosper from a black entry and stabbed at him between

the shoulders. "For the ravisher of Isoult!" was all the message that

did not miscarry, for Galors' mail of proof stopped the rest. Prosper

whipt round in an instant, but the assassin had made up the passage-

way. There was a quick chase through the break-neck lanes of the steep

little town, then blood told. Prosper ran his man to earth in a

churchyard. He proved to be a red-haired country lout, whose bandy

legs had been against him in this work. He asked for no quarter,

seemed beside himself with rage.

"Friend," said Prosper, "you struck me from behind. You must have

wished to make very sure. Why?"

Said Falve, "Thou ravisher, Galors."

"I cannot be called Galors to my face; politics may go to the devil.

Keep my secret, countryman; I am in Galors' shell, but I will be

Galors no more."

Falve dropped on his knees. "Oh, my lord, my lord--" he began to cry

out.

"Enough of lords," said Prosper. "Some of them do not very lordly, I

grant you. Your words touched me nearly. Be so good as to make

yourself plain. Who is Isoult?"

"Isoult la Desirous, my wife, Messire."

"Your wife!" cried Prosper, grinding his teeth.

"As good as that, my lord. I should have married her in the morning if

my mother hadn't played the Turk on me."

So he had the whole story out of him. Prosper learnt that Isoult had

been put in her way to safety by the old woman, who immediately after

had made that way the most perilous of all--with the best intentions

always.

"Master Falve, I am your debtor," said Prosper at the end; "I wish you

good evening."

"Messire, will you not find my wife?"

"Your wife again, sirrah!" cried he, turning sharply.

"Ah, my lord, if you have any ill-will to that----"

"I have the greatest possible ill-will, my man, because she is already

my own."

"Heaven round about us, was there ever such a married woman!" cried

poor Falve, tearing his hair.

The politics of a lady to whom, so far as he then knew, he owed no

service held Prosper till the morning. The rest of the night he spent

walking the ramparts. At the first flutter of light he beat up the

garrison, assembled the men of both parties, and declared himself.

"Hauterive returns to its allegiance," said he. "Conradin de Lamport

is commandant. The former garrison will deliver up all arms and take

the oath of fealty. A declaration of hue-and-cry is posted for Galors,

with a reward for his head. In three days' time the Countess will send

her Viceroy to claim the keys. Gentlemen, I bid you good morning."