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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Geste of Duke Jocelyn"


The sun rose high and higher, but since for them their captors were not,
neither was fatigue; and, if the way was rough there was Jocelyn's ready
hand, while for him swamps and brooks were a joy since he might bear her
in his arms. Thus tramped they by shady dingle and sunny glade, through
marshy hollows and over laughing rills, until the men began to mutter
their discontent, in especial a swart, hairy wight, and Will, glancing up
at the sun, spake:
"Two hours, lads, judge I."
"Nigher three, Tanner, nigher three!" growled the chief mutterer.
"Why so much the better, Rafe, though two was the word. Howbeit we be come
far enow, I judge, and 'tis hot I judge, so hey for Robin--and a draught o'
perry!"
"Art thou weary, my Yolande?"
"Nay, is not thy dear arm about me!"
"And--thou dost love me indeed?"
"Indeed, Joconde! Mine is a love that ever groweth--"
A horn's shrill challenge; a sound of voices, and below them opened a
great, green hollow, shady with trees beneath whose shade were huts of
wattle cunningly wrought, a brook that flowed sparkling, and beyond caves
hollowed in the steepy bank.


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