cried
'Cut off'; he cried 'Plant' when I would have burned up, root and
branch. But when I heard that Catherine of the Medici was indeed dead, I
shouted for joy; I said, 'She was arrayed in purple and scarlet, and
gilded with gold and precious stones and pearls! I saw her glory. But
now Babylon the Great is fallen--is fallen. And they that worshipped her
throw dust on their heads--all they that have thriven on the abundance
of her pleasures. For in one hour her judgment is come!'"

Then, all in a moment, he came down from the height of his vision. The
light of satisfied vengeance faded from his face.

"But I forget--I must go to the herd. It is my duty--till the God, whose
arm of flesh I am, finds fitter work for me to do. Then will I do it. I
care not whether the reward be heaven or hell, so that the work be done.
The cripple and the fool is not like other men. He is not holden by
human laws or codes of honour, nor by the lust of land, nor wealth, nor
power, nor the love of woman. He is free--free--free as Berak, the
lightning of God is free--to strike where he wills--to fall where he is
sent!"

The two watched him, and listened, marvelling.

And the Professor muttered to himself, "Before I lecture again, I must
read that Genevan book of his. Our poor Vulgate is to that torrent as
the waters of Siloah that flow softly!"

The voice of Jean-aux-Choux had ceased. That is, his lips moved without
words. But presently he turned to Claire and said, almost in his old
tones, "I am a fool. I fright you, that are but a child. I do great
wrong. But now I will go to the flock. They await me. I am, you say, a
careless shepherd to have left them so long. Not so! I have a dog in a
thousand--Toah the dart. And, indeed, I myself am no hireling--no
Iscariot. For your good cousin, Don Raphael Llorient, of Collioure, hath
as yet paid me no wages--neither gold Ferdinand nor silver Philip of the
Indies. A good day to you, Professor! Sleep in peace, little Claire
Agnew! For the sake of one Francis, late my master, we will watch over
you--even I, Berak the lightning, and Toah my dog!"

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE THREE SONS OF MADAME AMELIE

They went back, keeping step together, tall Claire with hand fearlessly
placed on the shoulder of her Professor, who straightened his bowed
student-back at the light touch.

As he went he meditated deeply, and Claire waited for him to speak.
Treading lightly by his side, she smelled the honeysuc