"Yet do I live alone, lady."

"Nor are thy ways and speech the ways of common smith, messire."

"Yet smith am I in sooth, lady, and therewithal content."

Now did she look on him 'neath drooping lash, sweet-eyed and
languorous, and shook her head, and sighed.

"Alas, messire, methinks then perchance it may be true that thou, for
all thy youth, and despite thine eyes, art a mocker of love, a despiser
of women? And yet--nay--sure 'tis not so?"

Then did Beltane the strong come nigh to fear, by reason of her fair
womanhood, and looked from her to earth, from earth to sky, and, when
he would have answered, fell a-stammering, abashed by her wondrous
beauty.

"Nay lady, indeed--indeed I know of women nought--nought of myself, but
I have heard tell that they be--light-minded, using their beauty but to
lure the souls of men from high and noble things--making of love a
jest--a sport and pastime--" But now the Duchess laughed, very soft
and sweeter, far, to Beltane's thinking than the rippling music of any
brook, soever.

"Aye me, messire anchorite," said she smiling yet, "whence had you this
poor folly?"

Quoth Beltane gravely: