The Forest Lovers

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  LA DESIREE

  Prosper broke the silence there was between them.

  "Whither should we go?" he said.

  Isoult took the lead. "Follow me, I will lead you. I know the ways."

  A great constraint kept him tongue-tied. The prize was his; thesilence, the emptiness, the night, gave him what his sword had earned.He trembled but dared not put out his hand. What was he--good Lord!--totouch so rare a thing? He hardly might look at her. The moon showed hima light muffled figure swaying to the rhythm of the march, the round ofher hooded head, the swing of her body, the play of her white hand onthe rein. Whenever he dared to look her face was turned to his; he sawthe moon-glint in her eyes. He absolutely had nothing to say, and forthe first time in his life felt a clumsy fool.

  By all which it would seem that love is a virtue going out of a man asmuch as any that enters in.

  Isoult was in very different plight, enjoying her brief moment oftriumph, making as it were the most of it. When a woman loves shehumbles herself, and every prostration is matter for an ecstasy. Herlove returned, she ventured to be proud; but this is against the grain.It is more blessed to give. The freed soul welcomes the prison-gatesand hugs the yoke and the chain.

  Just now she was on the verge of her freedom. In thus looking at himwho had been her lord yesterday and would be her lord to-morrow, shewas taking his measure. In her exalted mood she found that she couldread him like a book. There was no doubt about his present docility,but could she dare to mould it? She must woo, she saw; dare she trailthis steel-armed lord of battles, this grim executant, this trumpet ofGod, as a led child by her girdle-ribbons? If hero he had proved in hisown walk, to be sure he shambled pitifully on the edge of hers. Hersuperiority sparkled so hard and frosty-bright that she began to pityhim; and so the maid was thawed to be the mother of her man. Isoultknew she must beguile him now for his soul's ease and her own.

  When the ride grew broad and ran like a spit into a lake of soft darkshe stopped. There was moss here, there were lichened heather-roots,rowan bushes, and a ring of slim birches, silver-shafted,feather-crowned and light; more than all there was a little pool ofwater which two rills fed.

  "We will stay here," said Isoult.

  Prosper dismounted and helped her down. She felt him trembling as heheld her, whereat her courage rose clear and high.

  "I will disarm you"--had she not done it, indeed!--"and dress yourhurts. Then you shall rest and I look at you at last."

  "I am not much hurt. We could well go on."

  "Nay, you must let me do as I will now. I must disarm you. 'Tis myright."

  She did it, kneeling at his knees or standing before him. For once hewas that delight of a woman in love, her plaything, her toy--her baby,in a word. She girdled him with her arms at need; her fingers busy atneck or cheek-pieces unlaced the helm.

  "Now kneel."

  He obeyed her, and she grew tenderly deft over his wounds. She washedthem clean, bound them up with strips torn from her skirt. She pushedback his hair from eyes and brows, and washed him clean of blood andsweat and rage. Her petticoat was her towel; she would have used herhair, but that she dared not lose command of herself and him. Shewished for once to draw him, not to be drawn.

  She knelt down on the moss, touching her lap meaningly as she did so.

  "Rest here," said the gesture; "rest here, my dear heart," said thesmile that flew with it.

  He knelt beside her--all went well up to this. The moon was low, thenight wearing; but the pure light came flowing through a rent in thetrees, and she caught his look upon her. She tried, but she could notmeet it. Then it befell her that she would not meet it if she could.

  Prosper took something from his breast.

  "Look," he said, as he held it up.

  She watched it quivering in the moonbeams; her eyes brimmed; she grewblush-red, divinely ashamed.

  "Hold your hand out," said Prosper. She had risen to her knees; theywere kneeling face to face, very near.

  Isoult's hands were crossed at her neck. Prosper remembered thegesture. Now she held out her left hand and let him crown it. He heldon--alas! he was growing master every minute.

  "Isoult."

  "Yes."

  "Oh, my dear love, Isoult! Now I shall wed thee, Isoult theMuch-Desired."

  She began to shake. But she put her hands up till they rested on hisshoulders. She laughed in a low thrilled tone.

  "I am La Desiree now, and no longer La Desirous. For what I desired wasanother's desire." Also she said--"Kiss my mouth, and I shall believethat thou speakest the truth of the heart."

  He held her with his hands, looking long and steadily; nor did her eyesrefuse him now. Love was awake and crying between the pair. He drew hernearer, kissed her on the eyes and on the mouth; and she grew red andloved him dearly.

  So in the soft night, under the forest trees, in the hush that fallsbefore dawn, those two kissed and comforted one another. It was as in afield of blood that the rod of love thrust into flower at last. But theforest which had seen the graft held the flower by right. None watchedtheir espousal save the trees and the mild faces of the stars.