I pretend sometimes that we are followed, and
must go warily."
"Foolish Martin!"
They reached the terrace by a small door, and went quickly through the
ruins to the tower. The door was still locked. Martin had evidently only
just returned to the Abbey, and had not yet entered his tower.
"Give me your hand up the stairs," he said.
"Why, Martin, I must know every turn in them as well as you do," she
answered.
"It is my fancy to-night," he said. "Give me your hand. So. I have a
dream of a valiant knight, famous in war and tourney, one whom fine
ladies turn to glance after and desire that he should wear their favour.
Only one fair maid heeds him not, and ever the knight's eyes look
towards her. Whenever he draws his sword, or sets his lance in rest, he
whispers her name; for him she is the one woman in all the world. And
suddenly there comes to her the knowledge of his worth; I know not how
it comes, but she understands, and then--The dream ends then, yet
to-night it seems to linger for an instant. This dark stair leads to
some beautiful palace. You are the woman of the dream, the most
beautiful woman in the world; and for just a moment I stand a valiant
knight--your knight--and welcome you to all I possess.
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