As he spoke he passed under an archway of clipped yew, and, Evander following, the pair came upon a grassy space entirely girdled with yew hedges, the sight of which instantly justified to Evander the praise of his companion. The enclosure made a circle some half an acre in size of the greenest turf imaginable, orderly bordered with seats of white marble and belted all about with the black greenness of the yew-tree hedge, which was fashioned like an Italian colonnade. The arches afforded vistas of different and delightful prospects of the park at every quarter of the card--woodland, savanna-like lawns, flower-gardens, kitchen-gardens, and orchards in their pride. "This is a lovely place," protested Evander. "One might sit here and dream of seeing the shy wood-nymphs flitting through these aisles--if one had no better thoughts for one's idleness," he added. Halfman laughed. "There peeped out the Puritan," he said. "I had lost him this long while, but run him to earth in my lady's pleasaunce. Yet you are a queer kind of Puritan, too. You can fence like a Frenchman, you can play bowls as Father Jove plays with the globes of heaven, and you can ride like Diomed, the jolly Greek, who knew that horses could be stridden as well as driven." Evander, who had seated himself and had been tracing cabalistic signs on the grass with his staff, looked up into his companion's face. "Are not you rather a queer kind of Cavalier," he asked, "if you think that a Puritan must needs be a fool?" Halfman laughed back at him, and as he laughed he showed his teeth so seeming white by contrast with his sunburned cheeks, and he seemed to Evander more than ever like some half-tamed beast of prey. "You are no fool, Puritan," Halfman shouted, "or Heaven would not have wasted its time in gracing you with such skill at sports. So great with the rapier, so wise on the bias. No, no; you are no fool. I am almost sad to think you quit us so soon, enemy though you be." While Halfman had been babbling, Evander had again been busy with his staff. Halfman had paid no heed to his actions, being far too deep in his own phrases. Had he been attentive he might have noticed that at first Evander wrote on the green grass, as vainly as he might have written in water, a word, a name: Brilliana. Had he been attentive he might have noticed that Evander now wrote another word that was also a name and more than a name: Death. But he did not notice, and as he ended with his odd tribute to his enemy, Evander looked up at him with a calm face. "I shall not quit you so soon," he said, in an even voice. "I have come to stay at Harby." Halfman looked at him, puzzled. "Stay at Harby," he repeated. "Nonsense, man; what are you thinking of? You will be riding hence in three days' time, when Sir Randolph is released." Evander shook his head.