Now was a moment's breathless silence and thereafter an evil
chuckle, and, so chuckling, the man Lupo went down the rickety stair
without.

And when his step was died away, Beltane drew a deep breath, and
together they arose, and so, speaking no word, they looked upon each
other across the prostrate body of Sir Gilles of Brandonmere.

CHAPTER XIX

CONCERNING THE EYES OF A NUN

Eyes long, thick-lashed and darkly blue that looked up awhile into his
and anon were hid 'neath languorous-drooping lids; a nose tenderly
aquiline; lips, red and full, that parted but to meet again in sweet
and luscious curves; a chin white, and round, and dimpled.

This Beltane saw 'twixt hood and wimple, by aid of the torch that
flickered against the wall; and she, conscious of his look, stood with
white hands demurely crossed upon her rounded bosom, with eyes abased
and scarlet lips apart, as one who waits--expectant. Now hereupon my
Beltane felt himself vaguely at loss, and finding he yet held the
dagger, set it upon the table and spake, low-voiced.

"Reverend Mother--" he began, and stopped--for at the word her dark
lashes lifted and she stared upon him curiously, while slowly her red
lips quivered to a smile. And surely, surely this nun so sweet and
saintly in veiling hood and wimple was yet a very woman, young and
passing fair; and the eyes of her--how deep and tender and yet how
passionate! Now beholding her eyes, memory stirred within him and he
sighed, whereat she sighed also and meekly bowed her head, speaking him
with all humility.

"Sweet son, speak on--thy reverend mother heareth."

Now did Beltane, my Innocent, rub his innocent chin and stand mumchance
awhile, finding nought to say--then:

"Lady," he stammered, "lady--since I have found thee--let us go while
yet we may."

"Messire," says she, with eyes still a-droop, "came you in sooth--in
quest of me?"

"Yea, verily. I heard Sir Gilles had made captive of a nun, so came I
to deliver her--an so it might be."

"E'en though she were old, and wrinkled, and toothless, messire?"

"Lady," says my Innocent, staring and rubbing his chin a little harder,
"surely all nuns, young and old, be holy women, worthy a man's
reverence and humble service. So would I now bear thee from this
unhallowed place--we must be far hence ere dawn--come!"

"Aye, but whither?" she sighed, "death is all about us, messire--how
may we escape it? And I fear death no whit--now, messire!"

"Ay