“Who art thou then, fair maid?” questioned Gaston, who was all this time cautiously approaching the Tower of Saut by a winding and unfrequented path well known to his companion.  Roger had been told to wait till the other riders came up, and conduct them with great secrecy and caution along the same path.

Their worst fears for Raymond partially set at rest, and the hope of a speedy rescue acting upon their minds like a charm, Gaston was able to think of other things, and was eager to know more of the lovely girl who had twice shown herself to him in such unexpected fashion.

It was a simple little story that she told, but it sounded strangely entrancing from her lips.  Her name, she said, was Constanza, and her father had been one of a noble Spanish house, weakened and finally ruined by the ceaseless internal strife carried on between the proud nobles of the fiery south.  Her mother was the sister of the Sieur do Navailles, and he had from time to time given aid to her father in his troubles with his enemies.  The pestilence which had of late devastated almost the whole of Europe, had visited the southern countries some time before it had invaded more northerly latitudes; and about a year before Gaston’s first encounter with the nymph of the wood, it had laid waste the districts round and about her home, and had carried off both her parents and her two brothers in the space of a few short days.

Left alone in that terrible time of trouble, surrounded by enemies eager to pounce upon the little that remained of the wide domain which had once owned her father’s sway, Constanza, in her desperation, naturally turned to her uncle as the one protector that she knew.  He had always showed himself friendly towards her father.  He had from time to time lent him substantial assistance in his difficulties; and when he had visited at her home, he had shown himself kindly disposed in a rough fashion to the little maiden who flitted like a fairy about the wide marble halls.  Annette, her nurse, who had come with her mother from France when she had left that country on her nuptials, was a Gascon woman, and had taught the language of the country to her young mistress.  It was natural that the woman should be disposed to return to her native land at this crisis; and for Constanza to attempt to hold her own —­ a timid maiden against a score of rapacious foes —­ was obviously out of the question.  Together they had fled, taking with them such family jewels as could easily be carried upon their persons, and disguised as peasants they had reached and crossed the frontier, and found their way to Saut, where the Lord of Navailles generally spent such of his time as was not occupied in forays against his neighbours, or in following the fortunes either of the French or English King, as best suited the fancy of the moment.