aid I. "The Duke's a great man, of course; but no
harm shall come to you, Mistress Barbara. Your father bade me have my
services in readiness for you, and although I didn't need his order as a
spur, I may pray leave to use it as an excuse for thrusting myself on
you."

"Indeed I--I'm glad to see you, Simon. But what shall I do? Ah, Heaven,
why did I ever come to this place?"

"That can be mended by leaving it, madame."

"But how? How can I leave it?" she asked despairingly.

"The Duchess will grant you leave."

"Without the King's consent?"

"But won't the King consent? Madame will ask for you; she's kind."

"Madame won't ask for me; nobody will ask for me."

"Then if leave be impossible, we must go without leave, if you speak the
word."

"Ah, you don't know," she said sadly. Then she caught my hand again and
whispered hurriedly and fearfully: "I'm afraid, Simon. I--I fear him.
What can I do? How can I resist? They can do what they will with me,
what can I do? If I weep, they laugh; if I try to laugh, they take it
for consent. What can I do?"

There is nothing that so binds a man to a woman as to feel her hand
seeking his in weakness and appeal. I had thought that one day so
Barbara's might seek mine and I should exult in it, nay, might even let
her perceive my triumph. The thing I had dreamed of was come, but where
was my exultation? There was a choking in my throat and I swallowed
twice before I contrived to answer:

"What can we do, you mean, Mistress Barbara."

"Alas, alas," she cried, between tears and laughter, "what can we--even
we--do, Simon?"

I noticed that she called me Simon, as in the old days before my
apostacy and great offence. I was glad of it, for if I was to be of
service to her we must be friends. Suddenly she said,

"You know what it means--I can't tell you; you know?"

"Aye, I know," said I, "none better. But the Duke shan't have his way."

"The Duke? If it were only the Duke--Ah!" She stopped, a new alarm in
her eyes. She searched my face eagerly. Of deliberate purpose I set it
to an immutable stolidity.

"Already he's very docile," said I. "See how M. de Perrencourt turned
and twisted him, and sent him off crestfallen."

She laid her hand on my arm.

"If I might tell you," she said, "a thing that few know here; none but
the King and his near kindred and one or two more."

"But how came you to know of it?" I interrupted.

"I--I also came to know it," she murmured.

"Th