efore the appearance of another lover, the Sieur de Artigny."

I felt the color flood my cheeks, yet from indignation rather than
embarrassment.

"No word of love has been spoken me by Monsieur de Artigny," I
answered swiftly. "He is a friend, no more. I do not love Francois
Cassion, nor marry him but through force; ay! nor does he love
me--this is but a scheme to rob me of my inheritance."

"Enough of this," broke in La Barre sternly, and he gripped my arm.
"The girl hath lost her head, and such controversy is unseemly in my
presence. Pere le Guard, let the ceremony proceed."

"'Tis your order, Monsieur?"

"Ay! do I not speak my will plainly enough? Come, the hour is late,
and our King's business is of more import than the whim of a girl."

I never moved, never lifted my eyes. I was conscious of nothing, but
helpless, impotent anger, of voiceless shame. They might force me to
go through the form, but never would they make me the wife of this
man. My heart throbbed with rebellion, my mind hardened into revolt. I
knew all that occurred, realized the significance of every word and
act, yet it was as if they appertained to someone else. I felt the
clammy touch of Cassion's hand on my nerveless fingers, and I must
have answered the interrogatories of the priest, for his voice droned
on, meaningless to the end. It was only in the silence which followed
that I seemed to regain consciousness, and a new grip on my numbed
faculties. Indeed I was still groping in the fog, bewildered, inert,
when La Barre gave utterance to a coarse laugh.

"Congratulations, Francois," he cried. "A fair wife, and not so
unwilling after all. And now your first kiss."

The sneer of these words was like a slap in the face, and all the
hatred, and indignation I felt seethed to the surface. A heavy paper
knife lay on the desk, and I gripped it in my fingers, and stepped
back, facing them. The mist seemed to roll away, and I saw their
faces, and there must have been that in mine to startle them, for even
La Barre gave back a step, and the grin faded from the thin lips of
the Commissaire.

"'Tis ended then," I said, and my voice did not falter. "I am this
man's wife. Very well, you have had your way; now I will have mine.
Listen to what I shall say, Monsieur le Governor, and you also,
Francois Cassion. By rite of church you call me wife, but that is your
only claim. I know your law, and that this ceremony has sealed my
lips. I am your captive,