But the Maid of Galloway heard her not.  She was pondering on the meaning of Laurence’s presence in the Castle of Machecoul.

“Perhaps William hath sent Laurence to spy us out, and is even now coming from his French duchy with an army.  He is a far greater man than the marshal, and will make him give us up as soon as he finds out where we are.  Shall I call down to Laurie to let him know that we are here?”

Maud put her hand hastily over her companion’s mouth.

“Hush!” she said, “we must not appear to know him, or they will surely kill him—­and perhaps the others, too.  If Laurence is here, I wot well that help is not far away.  Let us be patient and abide.  Come back from the wall and sit by me as if nothing, had happened.”

But all the same she kept her own place in a spot where she could command the pleasaunce below, and looked longingly yet fearfully to see Sholto follow his brother across the green sward.

* * * * *

“Sweet and fair is the air of the evening,” purred behind them a low voice—­that of the woman who was called La Meffraye.  “It brings the colour to the cheeks of the young.  But I am old and wise, and I would advise that two maids so fair should not look down on the sports of the youths, lest they hear and see more than is fitting for such innocent eyes.”

The girls turned away without looking at their custodian, who stood leaning upon her little hand crutch and smiling upon them her terrible soft smile.

“Ah,” she said, “proud, are you?  ’Tis an ill place to bring pride to, this Castle of Machecoul.  You will not deign to speak a word to a poor old woman now.  But the day is not far distant when I shall have my pretty spitfire clinging about these old trembling knees, and beseeching me whom you despise, as a woman either to save you or kill you—­you will not care which. As a woman! Ha! ha!  How long is it since La Meffraye was a woman?  Was she ever rocked in a cradle?  Did she play about any cottage door and fashion daisy chains, as I have seen you do, my pretties, long ere you came to Machecoul or even heard of the Sieur de Retz?  Hath La Meffraye ever lain in any man’s bosom—­save as the tigress crouches upon her prey?”

She paused and smiled still more bitterly and malevolently than before upon the two maidens.

“Did you chance to be awake yester-even?” she went on.  “Aye, I know well that you were awake.  La Meffraye saw right carefully to that.  And you heard the crying that rang out of yonder high window, from which the light streamed all through the night.  Wait, wait, my pretties, till it is your turn to be sent for up thither, when the shining knife is sharpened and the red fire kindled.  You will not despise La Meffraye when that day comes.  You will grovel and weep, and then will La Meffraye spurn you with her foot, till the noise of your crying be borne out over the forest, and for very gladness the wolves howl in the darkness.”