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past, hunching low, black capes flapping, pale faces sardonic. The pounding of
flailing feet receded; the shrilling of horns faded in the distance; the three
wayfarers resumed their journey to the north.
Travante stopped short, then ran to peer into the forest. After a moment he
turned away, shaking his head.  Sometimes I think it follows me, close at
hand, whether from loneliness or a necessity which I cannot understand. Often
I think I glimpse it, but when I go to look, it is gone.
Madouc peered into the forest.  I could keep a better watch if I knew what to
look for.
 It is now a bit soiled, and somewhat tatterdemalion, said Travante.  Still,
all taken with all, I would find it useful and a fine thing to own.
 We will keep a sharp lookout, said Madouc, and added pensively:  I hope that
I do not lose my youth in the same way.
Travante shook his head.  Never! You are far more responsible than I was at
your age.
Madouc gave a sad laugh.  That is not my reputation! I also worry about Sir
Pom-Pom; he is heavier of mood than a boy his age should be. Perhaps it comes
of working too long in the stables.
 So it may be! said Travante.  The future will surely be full of surprises.
Who knows what we might find should Throop throw open his great coffer?
 Hardly likely! Even though Sir Pom-Pom brings a fine host-gift.
 My gift is less ostentatious in its value, though Twisk insisted that it is
quite suitable.
 Mine is little better, said Madouc. She pointed to Sir Pom-Pom, twenty yards
ahead.  Notice how alert Sir Pom-Pom has become! What could have aroused his
interest?
The object in question came into view: a sylph of superlative beauty riding
sidewise on a white unicorn, one knee folded, one slim leg negligently
dangling. She wore only the golden strands of her long hair, and guided the
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unicorn by little tugs on its mane. The two made a striking picture, and Sir
Pom-Pom, for one, was favorably impressed.
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The sylph halted her white steed, and inspected the three travellers with
wide-eyed curiosity.  I
bid you good afternoon, she said.  Where are you bound?
 We are vagabonds, and each of us follows a dream, said Travante.  At the
moment our quests take us toward Castle Doldil.
The sylph smiled a soft smile.  What you find may not be what you seek.
 We will carefully exchange courtesies with Sir Throop, said Travante.  Each
of us brings a valuable host-gift, and we expect a jovial welcome.
The sylph gave her head a dubious shake.  I have heard wails, groans, screams
and plaintive moans from Castle Doldil, but never yet a jovial call.
 Sir Throop s nature is perhaps over-serious, said Travante.
 Sir Throop s nature is grim and his hospitality is precarious. Still, you
undoubtedly know your own affairs best. Now I must ride on. The banquet starts
when the fireflies come out, and I would not be late for the merriment. She
twitched at the unicorn s mane.
 One moment! cried Sir Pom-Pom.  Must you go so soon?
The syiph tugged at the mane; the unicorn bowed its head and pawed at the
ground.  What is your need?
Madouc spoke.  It is no great matter. Sir Pom-Pom admires the play of light in
your long golden hair.
Sir Pom-Pom compressed his lips.  I might trade Holy Grail and all to ride
with you to Thripsey
Shee.
Madouc spoke curtly:  Control your admiration, Sir Pom-Pom! This lady has
better things to think about than your cold hands groping at her chest all the
way to Madling Meadow.
The sylph broke into a happy laugh.  I must hurry! Goodbye, goodbye! For I
know I shall never see you again! She twitched at the white mane, and the
unicorn paced off down Wamble Way.
 Come, Sir Pom-Pom! said Madouc.  You need not stare quite so earnestly down
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