The two had become good friends with the comradeship induced by the
similarity in their misfortunes.
Both were young, reckless and without money beyond what they earned,
though, whereas Arithelli had been more or less tricked into her
present position, Vardri had been infatuated with the Cause from the
time he was old enough to take an interest in anything. The worship of
the goddess Liberty had left with him room also for the adoration of a
human being, and in a boyish chivalrous way he had tried to make things
easier for Arithelli.
He managed to bring her occasional flowers and music out of his
starvation wages, and was always jealously careful of the way in which
her horses were groomed and turned out. They had a curious resemblance
to each other, and when Arithelli was dressed in boy's clothes for her
journeys up in the mountains, they might have been two brothers. One
was dark and the other fair, but both had the same haggard,
well-modelled faces, the same pale skins, and thin, supple figures.
They were exactly of a height, too, and when Arithelli disguised
herself, she pushed her red hair under a sombrero and black wig.
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