There was a sheer sincerity about the speech that pleased Igraine. His spirit seemed to overtop hers, and to silence argument. Proud heart! yet without thought of debate she gave way in the most placid manner, and was content to be shepherded. "I might walk at your stirrup," she said meekly. The man seemed to ponder. He merely looked at her with dark, solemn eyes, showing a quiet disregard for her humility. "Listen to me," he said, "you, a woman, must not attempt Anderida alone. The town will be beleaguered, or I am no prophet. To Anderida I cannot go, for I have folk at Winchester who wait my coming. If you can put trust in me, and will ride with me to Winchester, you will find harbour there." She considered a moment. "Winchester," she said, "yes, and most certainly I trust you." The man stretched out a hand to her with a smile. "God willing," he said, "I will bear you safe to the place. As for your frocks and vows, they must follow necessity, and pocket their pride. It will not damn you to ride before a man." "I trow not," she said, with a little laugh that seemed to make the leaves quiver. So they took horse together, and rode out from the beech wood into the moonlight. IV When they were clear of the solemn beeches, and saw the road white as white before them, Igraine began to tell the man of the doom of Avangel, and the great end made by Gratia the abbess. The knight had folded his red cloak and spread it for her comfort. Her tale seemed very welcome to him despite its grievous humour, and he questioned her much concerning Gratia, her goodness and her charity. Now it had been well known in Avangel that Gratia had come of noble and excellent descent, and seeing that this stranger had been familiar with her in the past, Igraine guessed shrewdly that he himself was of some ancient and goodly stock. To tell the truth, she was very curious concerning him, and it was not long before she found a speech ready to her tongue likely to draw some confession from his lips. "I have promised to pray for you," she said, "and pray for you I will, seeing that you have done me so great a blessing to-night. When I bow to the Virgin and the Saints, what name may I remember?" The man did not look at her, for her face was in the shadow of her hood and his clear and white in the light of the moon. "To some I am known as Sir Pelleas," he said. "And to me?" "As Sir Pelleas, if it please you, madame." Igraine understood that she was to be pleased with the name, whether she liked it or not. "Then for Sir Pelleas I will pray," she said, "and may my gratitude avail him." There was silence for a space, broken by the rhythmic play of hoofs upon the road, and the dull jar of steel. Igraine was meditating further catechism, adapting her questions for the knowledge she wished for. "You ride errant," she said presently. "I ride alone, madame." "The wold is a rude region set thick with perils." "Very true," quoth the man.