ine la Nina fuller and taller,
in the mid-most flower of a superb beauty. Claire, fresh from the
kitchen, showed an abounding energy in every limb. Sweet, gracious,
happy, born to make others happy, the Woman of the Interior went to
meet her Sister of the Exterior--of the life without a home. Valentine
la Nina had her plans ready. She had thought deeply over what to say and
what to do before she met Claire Agnew. She must look into the depths of
the girl's soul.

"I am called Valentine la Nina," she said, speaking with slow
distinctness, yet softly, "and I have come from very far to tell you
that I love the Prince Jean d'Albret. I am of his rank, and I demand
that you release him from any hasty bond or promise he may have made to
you!"

The colour flushed to the cheek of Claire Agnew, a deep sustained flood
of crimson, which, standing a moment at the full, ebbed slowly away.

"Did he send you to ask me that question--to make that request?" she
demanded, her voice equally low and firm.

"I have come of my own accord," Valentine la Nina answered, "I speak for
his sake and for yours. The release, which it is not fitting that he
should ask--I, who am a king's daughter, laying aside my dignity, may
well require!"

It was curious that Claire never questioned the truth of these
statements. Had not the lady come with Jean-aux-Choux? Nevertheless,
when she spoke, it was clearly and to the main issue.

"Jean d'Albret has made me no promise--I have given none to him. True, I
know that he loved me. If he loves me no more, let him come himself and
tell me so!"

"He cannot," said Valentine la Nina, "he is in prison. He has been on
the Spanish galleys. He has suffered much----"

"It was for my sake, I know--all for my sake!" cried Claire, a burst of
gladness triumphing in her voice. Valentine la Nina stopped and looked
at her. If there had been only a light woman's satisfaction in one more
proof of her power, she would never have gone on with what she came to
do. But Valentine saw clearly, being one of the few who can judge their
own sex. She watched Claire from under her long lashes, and the smile
which hovered about the corners of her mouth was tender, sweet, and
pitiful. Valentine la Nina was making up her mind.

"Well, let us agree that it was 'for your sake,'" she said. "Now it is
your turn to do something for his. He is ill, in prison. If he is sent
back to the galleys he will soon die of exposure, of torture, and of