And to my shame I admit that my heart rose with every mile that I put between me and the Red Tower.
Indeed, I hardly had a thought to spend on my father.

The hot quadrangle of the Wolfsberg, ever smelling of horses and the swelter of shed blood, the howling, fox-colored demons in the kennels, the black Duke Casimir -- right gladly I forgot them all.

Aye, I forgot even my father, and everything save that I was riding with two fair women through a world where all was love and spring, and where it was ever the prime of a young morning.
The Lady Ysolinde could not make enough of our Little Playmate.

She laughed back at her over her shoulder when she let her horse out for a canter.

She marvelled loudly at Helene's good riding, and at the unbound beauty of the crisp ringlets which clustered round her head like a boy's.