nigh touching, and his breath hot upon his cheeks. 'I think,
young sir,' quoth he softly, looking into the other's eyes, 'that now
that I am nearer you will very clearly see that the glove is not an
archer's glove.' 'Perchance not,' said the Sieur de Crespigny with a
twitching lip. 'Nor is it large, but very small,' quoth the Englishman.
'Less large than I had thought,' said the other, looking down, for the
knight's gaze was heavy upon his eyelids. 'And in every way such a glove
as might be worn by the fairest and sweetest lady in England,' quoth
the Englishman. 'It may be so,' said the Sieur de Crespigny, turning his
face from him. 'I am myself weak in the eyes, and have often taken one
thing for another,' quoth the knight, as he sprang back into his saddle
and rode off, leaving the Sieur de Crespigny biting his nails before the
door. Ha! by the five wounds, many men of war have drunk my wine, but
never one was more to my fancy than this little Englishman."

"By my hilt! he is our master, Michel," quoth Aylward, "and such men as
we do not serve under a laggart. But here are four deniers, Michel, and
God be with you! En avant, camarades! for we have a long road before
us."

At a brisk trot the three friends left Cardillac and its wine-house
behind them, riding without a halt past St. Macaire, and on by ferry
over the river Dorpt. At the further side the road winds through La
Reolle, Bazaille, and Marmande, with the sunlit river still gleaming
upon the right, and the bare poplars bristling up upon either side. John
and Alleyne rode silent on either side, but every inn, farm-steading,
or castle brought back to Aylward some remembrance of love, foray, or
plunder, with which to beguile the way.

"There is the smoke from Bazas, on the further side of Garonne," quoth
he. "There were three sisters yonder, the daughters of a farrier, and,
by these ten finger-bones! a man might ride for a long June day and
never set eyes upon such maidens. There was Marie, tall and grave, and
Blanche petite and gay, and the dark Agnes, with eyes that went through
you like a waxed arrow. I lingered there as long as four days, and was
betrothed to them all; for it seemed shame to set one above her sisters,
and might make ill blood in the family. Yet, for all my care, things
were not merry in the house, and I thought it well to come away. There,
too, is the mill of Le Souris. Old Pierre Le Caron, who owned it, was a
right good comrade, and had ev