"My Lord Gui's followers! Alas, Joconde, these mean thee ill--here is death
for thee!" Now as she spake, Jocelyn thrilled to the touch of her hand upon
his arm, a hand that trembled and stole to clasp his. "Alas, Joconde, they
have tracked thee hither to slay thee--"
"And were this so, wouldst fly with me, Yolande? Wouldst trust thy beauties
to a Fool's keeping?"
"Nay, nay, this were madness, Joconde; rather will I hide thee--aye, where
none shall dare seek thee--come!"
"Yolande," he questioned, "Yolande, wilt trust thyself to Love and me?"
But seeing how she shrank away, his eager arms fell and he bowed his head.
"Nay, I am answered," quoth he, "even while thine eyes look love, thy body
abhorreth Fool's embrace--I am answered. Nay, 't is enough, trouble not for
words--ha, methinks it is too late, the wolves be hard upon us--hark ye to
their baying!"
And now was sudden uproar, a raving clamour of fierce shouts, and a
thundering of blows upon the great door below.
"Yolande--ha, Yolande, yield thee! Open! Open!"
"Ah--mercy of God! Is it me they seek?" she whispered.
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