Thus sat Jocelyn regardful,
gladness in the heart of him, and a song of gladness bubbling to his lips.
Suddenly he saw her lashes quiver, her rosy lips parted to a smile and,
stirring in her slumber, she sighed and stretched shapely arms; so waked
she to a glory of sun and, starting to an elbow, gazed round, great-eyed,
until espying him, she smiled again.
"Good morrow, Joconde! Ne'er have I slept sweeter. But thou hast
out-watched dark night and art a-weary, so shalt sleep awhile--"
"Nay," he answered, "a plunge in the stream yonder and I shall be blithe
for the road--an we find one. And I do fear me thou'rt hungry, Yolande, and
I have nought to give thee--"
"And what of thyself, man? Verily, I read hunger in thy look and weariness
also, so, an thou may'st not eat, sleep thou shalt awhile here--in my
place."
"Nay, Yolande, indeed--"
"Yea, but thou must indeed whiles I watch over thee. 'Tis a sweet bed--come
thy ways."
"And what wilt thou do?" he questioned.
"Much!" she answered, viewing her rumpled, gown with rueful eyes.
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