“And I, at first, thought of it as a great adventure, as of two falcons soaring together into the blue. But now I see the shine of your pride, and my pride is bright as yours.” He felt a strange stirring of his blood. “Well—what then?” She thrust out her hands. “No one will persuade you, not even Isoult of the Rose, nor will she stoop to’t. Therefore, Merlin will grow savage, and Fulk of the Forest will lose his head.” He smiled at her with a grim and challenging approval. “You reason well.” “I may reason better. The hands that helped to spread the net may unfasten it again. Look not like that. I make no bargain; my pride is as good as yours.” He spoke in a hard whisper. “And I ask nothing—nothing of you, Isoult. But if you play this game on Merlin, you’ll suffer—where I——” She moved closer to him, her eyes shining. “What a stiffnecked boy it is, with a wit as stiff as a sword-blade. Why, the woman in me is three times as wise as the man in you. Merlin—ssst!—I can fool any Merlin!” His grey face threatened her in the dusk. “And fool me—also!” “Easily in some ways, if I would. And yet—I could not.” They stared at each other a moment, breathless, irreconcilable, wondering—two proud birds hovering breast to breast. Desire played like summer lightning. Each saw the other’s pale face flash out of the darkness of dreams wreathed with a wreath of flame. Fulk opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. In the wood they heard a sharp crackling of dead twigs, and the harsh voice of a man muttering out prayers. “Merlin!” She sprang up, snatched her lute, and slipped away among the trees. CHAPTER XII Isoult saw Merlin loitering for her among the fir trees, and she could imagine the smile on his face—that face with its red, libidinous mouth and hungry, restless eyes. He stood there in a little alley of the wood, a figure like a grey monolith marking the spot where some king had fallen. Isoult’s soul hardened itself against him, and she struck the strings of her lute and murmured the words of a song. “Trust a priest to cheat at any game.” He shrugged. “I walked in the wood to keep fools from straying upon you, and when I came close I said my prayers so that you should hear.” His head poked forward on its long neck like the head of a vulture, and he seemed to sniff the air. “What tidings, Isoult; what tidings?” “The falcon is tamed.” “What? You have cozened him? May all comely women be praised! I did not believe that the man lived who could say you nay.” She caught the leer in his voice, and guessed how he would be looking at her and licking his red lips. And from that moment she hated Merlin with all the hot pride of her nature. “Make no boast of it, for I do not.” He laughed gloatingly, and she could have struck him in the face with her knife. “Are you sure of the fool, Isoult?” “As sure of him as I am of your piety! No meddling between us; I have more songs to sing.”