d wearily;
eyes so much at odds with grim bascinet and close-laced camail that
Beltane must needs start and hold his breath and fall to sudden
trembling what time Sir Fidelis lay there, pale and motionless, as one
that is dead. Now great fear came upon Beltane, and he would have
uttered desperate prayers, but could not; trembling yet, full gently he
drew his arm from under that drooping head, and, stealing soft-footed
to the river's marge, stood there staring down at the rippling waters,
and his heart was rent with conflicting passions--amazement, fear,
anger, joy, and a black despair. And of a sudden Beltane fell upon his
knees and bowed him low and lower until his burning brow was hid in the
cool, sweet grass--for of these passions, fiercest, strongest, wildest,
was--despair.

CHAPTER XLII

HOW BELTANE DREAMED IN THE WILD-WOOD

Now in a while, he started to feel a hand among his hair, and the hand
was wondrous light and very gentle; wherefore, wondering, he raised his
head, but behold, the sun was gone and the shadows deepening to night.
Yet even so, he stared and thrilled 'twixt wonder and fear to see Sir
Fidelis bending over him.

"Fidelis!" he murmured, "and is it thee in truth,--or do I dream?"

"Dear my lord, 'tis I indeed. How long hast lain thus? I did but now
wake from my swoon. Is it thy hurt?--suffer me to look."

"Nay, 'tis of none account, but I did dream thee--dead--Fidelis!"

"Ah, messire, thy hurt bleedeth apace--the steel hath gone deep! Sit
you thus, thy back against the tree--so. Within my wallet I have a
salve--wait you here." So, whiles Beltane stared dreamily upon the
twilit river, Sir Fidelis hasted up the bank and was back again, the
wallet by his side, whence he took a phial and goblet and mixed therein
a draught which dreamy Beltane perforce must swallow, and thereafter
the dreamy languor fell from him, what time Sir Fidelis fell to bathing
and bandaging the ugly gash that showed beneath his knee. Now as he
watched these busy, skilful fingers he knew a sudden, uneasy qualm,
and forthwith spake his thought aloud:

"Thy hands are wondrous--small and slender, Sir Fidelis!"

"Belike, messire, they shall grow bigger some day."

"Yet are they wondrous fair--and soft--and white, Fidelis!"

"Mayhap, messire, they shall grow rough and brown and hairy anon--so
content you."

"Yet wherefore are they so soft, Fidelis, and so--maid-like? And
wherefore--"

"See you, my lord, thus must