"Now Heaven is kind! I go there myself in a few hours. You stare. In truth, it's worth a stare. But the King commands. How did you get rid of Louis?" I told her briefly. She seemed barely to listen, but looked at me with evident curiosity, and, I think, with some pleasure. "A brave thing!" she cried. "Come, I'll carry you to London. Nobody shall touch you while you're hid under the hem of my petticoat. It will be like old times, Simon." "I have no money," said I. "But I have plenty. For the less the King comes, the more he sends. He's a gentleman in his apologies." Her sigh breathed more contentment than repining. "So you'll take me with you?" "To the world's end, Simon, and if you don't ask that, at least to London." "But I'm not alone," said I. She looked at me for an instant. Then she began to laugh. "Whom have you with you?" she asked. "The lady," said I. She laughed still, but it seemed to me not very heartily. "I'm glad," she said, "that one man in England thinks me a good Christian. By heaven, you do, Simon, or you'd never ask me to aid your love." "There's no love in the matter," I cried. "We're at daggers drawn." "Then certainly there's love in it," said Mistress Nell, nodding her pretty head in a mighty sagacious manner. "Does she know to whom you've brought her?" "Not yet," I answered with a somewhat uneasy smile. "How will she take it?" "She has no other help," said I. "Oh, Simon, what a smooth tongue is yours!" She paused, seeming, to fall into a reverie. Then she looked at me wickedly. "You and your lady are ready to face the perils of the road?" "Her peril is greater here, and mine as great." "The King's pursuit, Monmouth's rage, soldiers, officers, footpads?" "A fig for them all!" "Another peril?" "For her or for me?" "Why, for both, good Simon. Don't you understand! See then!" She came near to me, smiling most saucily, and pursing her lips together as though she meant to kiss me. "If I were vowed to the lady, I should fear the test," said I, "but I am free." "Where is she?" asked Nell, letting my answer pass with a pout. "By your very door." "Let's have her in," cried Nell, and straightway she ran into the alley. I followed, and came up with her just as she reached Barbara. Barbara leant no more against the wall, but lay huddled at the foot of it. Weariness and hunger had overcome her; she was in a faint, her lips colourless and her eyes closed. Nell dropped beside her, murmuring low, soft consolations. I stood by in awkward helplessness. These matters were beyond my learning. "Lift her and carry her in," Nell commanded, and, stooping, I lifted her in my arms. The maid and the man stared. Nell shut the door sharply on them. "What have you done to her?" she cried to me in angry accusation. "You've let her go without food." "We had none. She flung my last money into the sea," I pleaded. "And why? Oh, hold your peace and let us be!"