e. Seeing them
stand there, rigid, relentless, Marie realized as she had not fully
realized before that they were her enemies, that no softness or
prettiness, no agony of tears could turn their hearts. She sprang up
with a choking cry, and stumbled toward the door. Vanno, thinking she
meant to run away, took two long steps and placed himself before her.

"Angel with the flaming sword!" were the words that spoke themselves in
Peter's mind. But she had no pity yet for Marie.

"I--I only want to shut the door--that's all--because you wouldn't," the
Princess faltered. "Just for a few minutes. It's all I ask. Give me a
little time."

Vanno closed the door without noise, and stood in front of it like a
sentinel. "You may have a few minutes," he said. "Then I shall call
Angelo to hear the truth from you or from me. It's for you to choose
which."

"Haven't you any mercy in your heart?" she wailed. "I'm only a woman.
I'm your brother's wife. He loves me."

"I love Mary," Vanno said.

"It was Mary who spared me. She saw it was worse for me than for her,
because I'm married to Angelo. My whole life's at stake. That's why she
sacrificed herself. I----"

"The more you say, the worse you make us hate you," Peter cut her short.
"You were always selfish. Even when I liked you, I used to think you
just like a white Persian cat. When you were petted, you purred. When
things went wrong, you scratched. You don't deserve the name of woman.
What you've done is as bad as murder."

"I did it for Angelo," Marie pleaded. "I love him so! I couldn't lose
his love."

"So you flung Mary to the wolves!" Vanno said. He had not believed that
he could see a woman cry without pitying and wishing to help her. But
his heart felt hard as stone as he watched Marie's streaming tears. All
the brutality of his fierce ancestors had rushed to arms in his nature.
The fancy came to his mind that he would still be hard and cold if he
had to see her flogged. Then at the suggested picture, something in him
writhed and revolted. He was not so hard as he had thought. He had to
steel himself against her by thinking of what she had done to Mary.

"You deserve to die!" said Peter.

"I want to die," Marie answered pitifully. She stood supporting herself
with an arm that clung to the high straight back of a Florentine chair.
"If you will only not tell Angelo till I am dead, that's all I'll ask.
Please wait--a little while. I couldn't live and look him in the fa