ess wilderness. She broke from her
trance and the ring of women, and ran before D'Aulnay de Charnisay.

"My lord," said Marie--and she was so beautiful in her ivory pallor, so
wonderful with fire moving from the deep places of her dilated black
eyes that he felt satisfaction in attending to her--"it is useless to
talk to a man like you."

"Quite, madame," said D'Aulnay. "I never discuss affairs with a woman."

"But you may discuss them with the king when he learns that you have
hanged with other soldiers of a ransomed garrison a young officer of the
house of De Born."

D'Aulnay ran his eye along the line. The unrest of Edelwald at Marie's
slightest parley with D'Aulnay reminded the keen governor of the face he
had last night seen under the cowl.

"The king will be obliged to me," he observed, "when one less heretical
De Born cumbers his realm."

"The only plea I make to you, my lord D'Aulnay, is that you hang me
also. For I deserve it. My men had no faith in your military honor, and
I had."

"Madame, you remind me of a fact I desired to overlook. You are indeed a
traitor deserving death. But of my clemency, and not because you are a
woman, for you yourself have forgotten that in meddling with war, I will
only parade you upon the scaffold as a reprieved criminal. Bring hither
a cord," called D'Aulnay, "and noose it over this lady's head." Edelwald
raged in a hopeless tearing at his bonds. The guards seized him, but he
struggled with unconquered strength to reach and protect his lady.
Father Vincent de Paris had taken his capote and sandals at Jean le
Prince's hint, and entered the tower. He clothed himself behind one of
the screens of the hall, and thought his absence short, but during that
time Marie was put upon the finished scaffold. A skulking reluctant
soldier of D'Aulnay's led her by a cord. She walked the long rough
planks erect. Her garrison to a man looked down, as they did at
funerals, and Edelwald sobbed in his fight against the guards, the tears
starting from under his eyelids as he heard her foot-fall pass near him.
Back and forth she trod, and D'Aulnay watched the spectacle. Her
garrison felt her degradation as she must feel their death. The grizzled
lip of Glaud Burge moved first to comfort her.

"My lady, though our hands be tied, we make our military salute to you,"
he said.

"Fret not, my lady," said Renot Babinet.

"Edelwald can turn all these mishaps into a song, my lady," declared
Jean l