"Petronilla? Petronilla?" she repeated, stroking her cheek with her hand. "She would be before my time, would she not? Yet there used to be several Petronillas about the court in Queen Catherine of Aragon's days, I remember. There was Petronilla de Vargas for one. But there, I guess at random. Why do you not tell me more about yourself, Master Francis? Do you not know me well enough now?" "There is nothing to tell, madam," I said in a low voice. "Your family? You come, I am sure, of a good house." "I did, but it is nothing to me now. I am cut off from it. I am building my house afresh. And," I added bitterly, "I have not made much way with it yet." She broke, greatly to my surprise, into a long peal of laughter. "Oh, you vain boy!" she cried. "You valiant castle-builder! How long have you been about the work? Three months? Do you think a house is to be built in a day? Three months, indeed? Quite a lifetime!" Was it three months? It seemed to me to be fully three years. I seemed to have grown more than three years older since that February morning when I had crossed Arden Forest with the first light, and looked down on Wootton Wawen sleeping in its vale, and roused the herons fishing in the bottoms. "Come, tell me all about it!" she said abruptly. "What did you do to be cut off?" "I cannot tell you," I answered. A shade of annoyance clouded her countenance. But it passed away almost on the instant. "Very well," she said, with a little nod of disdain and a pretty grimace. "So be it. Have your own way. But I prophesy you will come to me with your tale some day." I went then and took Master Bertie's place at the tiller; and, he lying down, I had the boat to myself until noon, and drew no little pleasure from the placid picture which the moving banks and the wide river presented. About noon there was a general uprising; and, coming immediately afterward to a little island lying close to one bank, we all landed to stretch our legs and refresh ourselves after the confinement on board. "We are over the border now and close to Emmerich," said Master Lindstrom, "though the mere line of frontier will avail us little if the Spanish soldiers can by hook or crook lay hands on us! Therefore, we must lose no time in getting within the walls of some town. We should be fairly secure for a few days either in Wesel or Santon." "I thought Wesel was the point we were making for," Master Bertie said in some surprise. "It was Wesel I mentioned the other day," the Dutchman admitted frankly. "And it is the bigger town and the stronger. But I have more friends in Santon. To Wesel the road from Emmerich runs along the right bank. To Santon we go by a cross-country road, starting from the left bank opposite Emmerich, a road longer and more tedious. But we are much less likely to be followed that way than along the Wesel road, and on second thoughts I incline to Santon." "But why adopt either road? Why not go on by river?" I asked.