death, beat him madly in the face with her hands; but to no end, only
that I was close upon them. And, in that moment, she screamed my name
aloud; and I caught the poor lout and hit him once, but not to harm him
overmuch; yet to give him a long memory of me; and afterward I threw him
into the side of the road. But the second hind, having heard my name,
loosed from the tiring-maid, and ran for his life; and, indeed, my
strength was known all about that part.

And I caught Mirdath the Beautiful by her shoulders, and shook her very
soundly, in my anger. And afterward, I sent the maid onward; and she,
having no word from her Mistress to stay, went forward a little; and in
this fashion we came at last to the hedge-gap, with the Lady Mirdath
very hushed; but yet walking anigh to me, as that she had some secret
pleasure of my nearness. And I led her through the gap, and so homeward
to the Hall; and there bid her good-night at a side door that she held
the key of. And, truly, she bid me good-night in an utter quiet voice;
and was almost as that she had no haste to be gone from me that night.

Yet, when I met her on the morrow, she was full of a constant impudence
to me; so that, having her alone to myself, when the dusk was come, I
asked her why she would never be done of her waywardness; because that I
ached to have companionship of her; and, instead, she denied my need.
And, at that, she was at once very gentle; and full of a sweet and
winsome understanding; and surely knew that I wished to be rested; for
she brought out her harp, and played me dear olden melodies of our
childhood-days all that evening; and so had my love for her the more
intent and glad. And she saw me that night to the hedge-gap, having her
three great boar-hounds with her, to company her home again. But,
indeed, I followed her afterwards, very silent, until I saw her safe
into the Hall; for I would not have her alone in the night; though she