He had no thought that he would succeed, but it was ever his way to return to the charge. It had been the secret of his life's success so far. He had never taken a refusal. He had never believed that when man or woman said no that no was meant; and, if it were meant, he still believed that constant dropping would wear away the stone. He still held that persistence was the greatest lever in the world, that unswerving persistence was the master of opportunity. They had now come to two paths in the park leading different ways. "This road leads to Kenilworth, this to your prison," he said with a slow gesture, his eyes fixed upon hers. "I will go to my prison, then," she said, stepping forward, "and alone, by your leave." Leicester was a good sportsman. Though he had been beaten all along the line, he hid his deep chagrin, choked down the rage that was in him. Smiling, he bowed low. "I will do myself the honour to visit your prison to-morrow," he said. "My father will welcome you, my lord," she answered, and, gathering up her skirt, ran down the pathway. He stood unmoving, and watched her disappear. "But I shall have my way with them both," he said aloud. The voice of a singer sounded in the green wood. Half consciously Leicester listened. The words came shrilling through the trees: "Oh, love, it is a lily flower, (Sing, my captain, sing, my lady!) The sword shall cleave it, Life shall leave it Who shall know the hour? (Sing, my lady, still!)" Presently the jingling of bells mingled with the song, then a figure in motley burst upon him. It was the Queen's fool. "Brother, well met--most happily met!" he cried. "And why well met, fool?" asked Leicester. "Prithee, my work grows heavy, brother. I seek another fool for the yoke. Here are my bells for you. I will keep my cap. And so we will work together, fool: you for the morning, I for the afternoon, and the devil take the night-time! So God be with you, Obligato!" With a laugh he leaped into the undergrowth, and left Leicester standing with the bells in his hand. CHAPTER XVI