"Love!" shouted the youth. His voice cracked on it. He appeared
slightly annoyed. Martin chewed a grass and watched him up and down
the meadow.

At the right moment he bellowed:

"I was never yet put off my feed by love."

"Then," roared the youth, "you have never loved."

At this Martin jumped over the gate and ran along the furrow behind
the boy.

"I have loved," he vowed, "as many times as I have tuned lute-strings."

"Then," said the youth, not turning his head, "you have never loved
in vain."

"Always, thank God!" said Martin fervently.

The youth, whose name was Robin Rue, suddenly dropped all his seed
in one heap, flung up his arms, and,

"Alas!" he cried. "Oh, Gillian! Gillian!" And began to sob more
heavily than ever.

"Tell me your trouble," said the Minstrel kindly.

"Sir," said the youth, "I do not know your name, and your clothes