e
castle, and then hurriedly crossed the old mosaic pavement, reaching a
narrow flight of stairs, which she swiftly ascended. A door that
yielded to the fool's shoulder led into a deserted court, on one side
of which were the crumbling walls of the chapel. Here several dark
birds perched uncannily on the dead branch of a massive oak that had
been shattered by lightning. In its desolation the oak might have been
typical of the proud family, once rulers of the castle, whose corporeal
strength had long since mingled with the elements.

This open space the two fugitives quickly traversed, passing through a
high-arched entrance to an olden bridge that spanned a moat. Long ago
had the feudal gates been overthrown by Francis; yet above the keystone
appeared, not the salamander, the king's heraldic emblem, but the
almost illegible device of the old constable. Beyond the great ditch
outstretched a rolling country on which the jester gazed with eager
eyes, while his companion swiftly led the way to a clump of willow and
aspen on the other side of the moat. Beneath the spreading branches
were tethered two horses, saddled and bridled. Wonderingly he glanced
from them to her.

"From whence did you conjure them, gentle mistress?" asked the fool.

"Some one I knew placed them there."

"But why--two horses, good Jacqueline?"

"Because I am minded to show you the path through the wood," she
replied. "You might mistake it and then my purpose would not be
served. Give me your hand, sir. I am wont to have my own way." And
as he reluctantly extended his palm she placed her foot upon it,
springing lightly to the saddle. "'Tis but a canter through the
forest. The day is glorious, and 'twill be rare sport."

Already had she gathered in the reins and turned her horse, galloping
down a road that swept through a grove of poplar and birch, and he,
after a moment's hesitation, rode after her. Like one born to the
chase, she kept her seat, her lithe figure swaying to the movements of
the steed. Soon the brighter green of her gown fluttered amid the
somber-tinted pines and elms, as the younger forest growth merged into
a stern array of primeval monarchs. Here reigned an austere silence--a
stillness that now became the more startlingly broken.

"Jacqueline!" said the fool, spurring toward her. "Do you hear?"

"The hunters? Yes," she replied.

"They are coming this way."

"Perhaps it were better to draw back from the road,