cover rode the lady of Mortain, and coming close where Beltane leaned
him in the shade of the tree, paused of a sudden, and started as one
that is surprised, and Beltane turning, found her beside him, yet spake
not nor moved.

Breathless and as one entranced he gazed upon her; saw how her long
hair glowed a wondrous red 'neath the kisses of the dying sun; saw how
her purpled gown, belted at the slender waist, clung about the beauties
of her shapely body; saw how the little shoe peeped forth from the
perfumed mystery of its folds, and so stood speechless, bound by the
spell of her beauty. Wherefore, at length, she spake to him, low and
sweet and humble, on this wise:

"Art thou he whom men call Beltane the Smith?"

He answered, gazing at her lowered lashes:

"I am Beltane the Smith."

For a space she sat grave and silent, then looked at him with eyes that
laughed 'neath level brows to see the wonder in his gaze. But anon she
falls a-sighing, and braided a tress of hair 'twixt white fingers ere
she spoke:

"'Tis said of thee that thou art a hermit and live alone within these
solitudes. And yet--meseemeth--thine eyes are not a hermit's eyes,
messire!"

Quoth Beltane, with flushing cheek and eyes abased: