He was so little of a woodsman that he never looked underfoot.
Sparrow touched my arm and pointed down a glade at right angles with the path my lord was pursuing.

Up this glade there was coming toward us another figure,--a small black figure that moved swiftly, looking neither to the right nor to the left.
Black Lamoral stood like a stone; the brown mare, too, had learned what meant a certain touch upon her shoulder.

Sparrow and I, with small shame for our eavesdropping, bent to our saddlebows and looked sideways through tiny gaps in the crimson foliage.
My lord descended one side of the hollow, his heavy foot bringing down the dead leaves and loose earth; the Italian glided down the opposite side, disturbing the economy of the forest as little as a snake would have done.
"I thought I should never meet you," growled my lord.

"I thought I had lost you and her and myself.

This d-d red forest and this blue haze are enough to"-- He broke off with an oath.
"I came as fast as I could," said the other.