"Nay, rather," faltered Gwennola tremulously, "’twas the ape of Pierre the fool, and verily the spirit of evil was doubtless lurking unseen in the shadows behind," and in a few brief words she told her lover of Marie’s tale and the devotion of the fool to Guillaume de Coray. "Fly, Henri, fly!" she pleaded. "Surely there is yet time; thy wound heals well, and methinks even at some pain ’twere better to fly before discovery overtakes us. Alas, alas, how evil grows our case when it seemed to promise so fairly!" "Nay," laughed d’Estrailles undauntedly, "’twere better first to strive to teach fools their foolishness," and without awaiting her reply he plunged into the forest, only to emerge some moments later crestfallen and indignant. "Truly the knave is in league with de Coray’s own master," he said with a grimace of discomfiture. "Not a trace of him is to be seen. But come, sweet, wear not so troubled a brow; methinks the danger is as little pressing as heretofore, seeing that none know of yon snug chamber, where I may well mock their vigilance for many days." "Nay, Henri," entreated Gwennola, as she clung afresh to him. "Go, I beseech thee, whilst there is yet time. Oh, what agony shall I endure till thou art in safety!" But for all her pleading he refused to be turned from his purpose of lingering another day, yet less, perchance, from selfish motives as from fear of what might befall her did the fool’s tale move her father’s anger more mightily upon her. "To-morrow eve," he cried, laughing at her fears, as he held her two white hands in his, and kissed her on her quivering lips. "Courage, little one, ’tis but a terror that will pass with the dawn, and if thou fearest the malice of this crooked fool, why, smile upon him with thy sweet eyes, and thou must needs make him thy slave for ever." So, perforce, seeing he was a man and wilful, she was fain to yield, though her blue eyes still looked into his with wistful foreboding as she entreated him to be careful, and remain in the safe shelter of his hiding-place. So back through the forest they went together till they caught sight of Job Alloadec’s broad figure standing stiff and straight by the outer postern of the wall, when they bade each other once more a tender adieu. "Farewell, little one," whispered d’Estrailles, the more gaily as he felt his cheek wet with a stray teardrop which had fallen from her soft lashes. "Fear not yon impish fool, who dared thus insolently to look within the gates of Paradise; seal his tongue with sweet looks, and perchance a silver piece, and to-morrow——" "Ah, to-morrow," she sighed. "Alas! to-morrow."