ng.

By the Fountain of the Consolation, Raphael Llorient remained alone. He
did not even trouble to follow Claire in her wild flight. He had the
girl, as he thought, under his hand, whenever he chose to lift her. Her
anger did not displease him--on the contrary.

He laughed a little, and the lifting of the lip gave a momentary glimpse
of white teeth, which, taken together with the greenish sub-glitter
(like shot silk) of his eyes, was distinctly unpleasant in the twilight
of the wood.

"The little vixen," he said to himself, changing his pose against the
great olive for one yet more graceful, "the small fury! A little more
and she would have bitten her lip through. I saw the tremble of the
under one where the teeth were biting into it, when she was holding
herself in. But I like her none the worse for that. Women are the
poorest sort of wild cattle--unless you have to tame them!"

The night darkened down. The primrose of the sky changed to the saffron
red of a mountain-gipsy's handkerchief, crimsoned to a deep welter of
incarnadine, the "flurry" of the dying day. Still Raphael stood there,
by the black pool. A little bluish glimmer, which might have been
Will-o'-the-wisp, danced across the marisma. The trees sighed. The water
muttered to itself.

In that place and time, simple shepherd-folk who had often seen Raphael,
Lord of Collioure, pass into the haunted coppice, were entirely sure of
the explanation. The devil spoke with him--else, why was he not afraid?
They were right.

For Raphael Llorient took counsel there with his own heart. And as that
was evil, it amounted to the same thing.

The Kingdom of God is within you, saith the Word. The other kingdom
also, according to your choice.

CHAPTER XXVI.

FIRST COUNCIL OF WAR

There was more than one council of war within the bounds of the circle
of hills that closed in little Collioure that night.

First, that which was held within the kitchen-place of La Masane. The
maids were busied with the cattle, but all three brothers were there.
The Senora, sloe-eyed and vivid, continually interrupted, now by spoken
word, now trotting to the steaming _casseroles_ upon the fire, anon
darting to the door to make sure that this time no unwelcome visitor
should steal upon them at unawares.

When Claire had told her story, the three men sat grave and silent, each
deep in his own thoughts. Only the Senora was voluble in her
astonishment. She thought she knew her