which she would never have endured of them. If she had gone kneeling to
their doors with pitiful hands, saying, "I starve, not having
wherewithal to eat; I perish, not having wherewithal to cover me"--they
would perhaps have fed and clothed her, aglow with self-content. But
they were not prompt with the charity which warms the object only and
not the donor; and she on her part tried to appear as though she needed
nothing at their hands.

One evening when the woods were in full leaf, and summer on the edge of
its zenith, Proud Rosalind walked among the trees seeking green herbs
for soup. She had wandered far afield, because there were no woods near
the castle, standing on its high ground above the open flats and the
river beyond. But gazing over the water she could see the groves and
crests upon the hills where some sustenance was. The swift way was over
the river, but there was no boat to serve her except Harding's; and
this was a service she had never asked of old, and lately would rather
have died than ask. So she took daily to the winding roads that led to
a distant bridge and the hills with their forests. This day her need
was at its sorest. When she had gathered a meager crop she sat down
under a tree, and began to sort out the herbs upon her knees. One
tender leaf she could not resist taking between her teeth, that had had
so little else of late to bite on; and as she did so coarse laughter
broke upon her. It was her rude suitor who had chanced across her path,
and he mocked at her, crying, "This is the Proud Rosalind that will not
eat at an honest man's board, choosing rather to dine after the high
fashion of the kine and asses!" Then from his pouch he snatched a crust
of bread and flung it to her, and said, "Proud Rosalind, will you stoop
for your supper?"

She rose, letting the precious herbs drop from her lap, and she trod
them into the earth as weeds gathered at hazard, so that the putting of
the leaf between her lips might wear an idle aspect; and then she
walked away, with her head very high. But she was nearly desperate at
leaving them there, and when she was alone her pain of hunger increased
beyond all bounds. And she sat down on the limb of a great beech and
leaned her brow against his mighty body, and shut her eyes, while the
light changed in the sky. And presently the leaves of the forest were
lit by the moon instead of the sun, and the spaces in the top boughs
were dark blue instead of saffron, an