through his hair, and shining on his armour in a blaze of light that quite dazzled her — the horse quietly moving about, with the reins hanging loose on his neck, cropping the grass at her feet — and the black shadows of the forest behind — all this she took in like a picture, as, with one hand shading her eyes, she leant against a tree, watching the strange pair, and listening, in a half dream, to the melancholy music of the song.

‘But the tune isn’t his own invention,’ she said to herself: ‘it’s “I give thee all, I can no more.”’ She stood and listened very attentively, but no tears came into her eyes.

‘I’ll tell thee everything I can;

There’s little to relate.