"Adhelmar," said he, at length, "this world is a small place."

Adhelmar rose. "Indeed," he assented, with a wried smile, "I think there
is scarce room in it for both of us, Hugues."

"That was my meaning," said the Sieur d'Arques.

"Only," Adhelmar pursued, somewhat wistfully, "my sword just now, Hugues,
is vowed to my King's quarrel. There are some of us who hope to save
France yet, if our blood may avail. In a year, God willing, I shall come
again to Puysange; and till then you must wait."

Hugues conceded that, perforce, he must wait, since a vow was sacred;
and Adhelmar, who suspected Hugues' natural appetite for battle to be
lamentably squeamish, grinned. After that, in a sick rage, Adhelmar
struck Hugues in the face, and turned about.

The Sieur d'Arques rubbed his cheek ruefully. Then he and Melite stood
silent for a moment, and heard Adhelmar in the court-yard calling his men
to ride forth; and Melite laughed; and Hugues scowled.


2. _Nicolas as Chorus_

The year passed, and Adhelmar did not return; and there was much fighting
during that interval, and Hugues began to think the knight was slain and
would never return to fight with him. The reflection was borne with
equanimity.

So Adhelmar was half-forgot, and the Sieur d'Arques turned his mind to