here was
none other way for me, I followed this--and then--O Martin!"

"What?" quoth I, leaning forward.

"Have you ever been to the palace at Versailles, Martin!"

"Once, as a boy with my father."

"Well, Martin, the cave--the hall I came to at last was more splendid
than any Versailles can show. And then I knew that I had found--Black
Bartlemy's Treasure!"

"Ha!" quoth I. "And is it indeed so great?"

"Beyond description!" says she, clasping her floury hands and turning
on me with shining eyes. "I have held in my hands, jewels--O by the
handful! Great pearls and diamonds, rubies, emeralds,
sapphires--beyond price!"

"Aye!" I nodded, "But was this all?"

"All, Martin?" says she, staring.

"Why, according to Adam there should be all manner of stores," says I,
"powder and shot, tools--a carpenter's chest--"

"They are all there, with provisions of every kind; as witness this
flour, Martin, but I heeded only these wondrous jewels!" Hereupon she
turns to her work again, describing to me the splendour of these
precious stones and the wonder of Bartlemy's treasure, whiles I,
viewing her loveliness, would have given such foolish treasure a
thousand times for but her little finger, as watching the play of her
round arms again, I fell a-sighing, whereupon she turns, all anxious
questioning.

"Doth your wound trouble you, Martin?"

"Nay, indeed," says I, shaking my head, "I am very well, I thank you!"

"Then wherefore sigh so deep and oft?"

"I am a vasty fool!"

"Are you, Martin--why?" But in place of answer I rose and, coming
beside her, scowled to see the tender flesh of her arms all black and
bruised:

"What is this?" I demanded.

"Nought to matter!"

"Who did it?"

"You, Martin. In your raving you were very strong, mistaking me for
the poor Spanish lady."

"O forgive me!" I cried, and stooping to this pretty arm would have
touched my lips thereto for mere pity but checked myself, fearing to
grieve her; perceiving this she comes a little nearer:

"You may--an you so desire, Martin," says she, "though 'tis all
floury!" So I kissed her arm, tenderly and very reverently, as it had
been some holy thing (as indeed so I thought it).

"I'm glad 'twas I did this, comrade."

"Glad, Martin?"

"Aye! I had rather 'twas myself than yon evil rogues--nay forget
them," says I, seeing her shiver, "plague on me for reminding you."

"Hush, Martin!"

"Why then, forget them--and I have their weapons t