"But for yourself, Thane, there would have been nought that I could
not have put up with. But little thought for me was there when you
made me the jest of your idle comrades over that foolish cup of the
king's."

That was a new way of looking at the matter, in all truth. I
supposed that a vow of fealty to any lady would have been taken by
her as somewhat on which to pride herself maybe, from whomsoever it
came. Which seemed to be foolishness in this fresh light. Still, it
came to me that her anger was not altogether fair, for I was the
one who had to stand the jesting, and not one of my honest comrades
so much as mentioned her name lightly in any wise.

"That was no jest of mine, Elfrida," I said gravely enough. "If
there is any jest at all that will come from my oath, it will be
that I have been foolish enough to vow fealty to one who despises
me. The last thing that I would do is anything that might hurt you.
And my vow stands fast, whether you scorn me or not, for if it was
made in a moment, it is not as if I had not had long years to think
on in which we have been good friends enough."

"Ay," she said, turning from me and reaching some apples that yet
hung on a sheltered bough, "I have heard the terms of that vow from
my father, more than once. You can keep it without trouble."

"Have I your leave to try to keep it?"

"You have had full leave to be a good friend of ours all these
years, as you say, and I do not see that the vow binds you to more.
No one thinks that you are likely to forget last night, or any one