ove behind, and looking
over his shoulder, he saw that she leaned down upon the table and kissed
the pistol which he had left loaded there. He stepped out of the cabin
and closed the door behind him.

The dark blue of the sky had faded to a pure and pearly colour; a
colourless grey light invaded it; the pale stars were drowning; and all
about him the trees shivered to the morning. Wogan walked up and down
that little plateau, torn by indecision. Inside the sheltered cabin sat
waiting the girl, whose destiny was in his hands. He had a sentence to
speak, and by it the flow of all her years would be irrevocably ordered.
She had given herself over to him,--she, with her pride, her courage,
her endurance. Wogan had seen too closely into her heart to bring any
foolish charge of unmaidenliness against her. No, the very completeness
of her submission raised her to a higher pinnacle. If she gave herself,
she did so without a condition or a reserve, body and bone, heart and
soul. Wogan knew amongst the women of his time many who made their
bargain with the world, buying a semblance of esteem with a double
payment of lies. This girl stood apart from them. She loved, therefore
she entrusted herself simply to the man she loved, and bade him dispose
of her. That very simplicity was another sign of her strength. She was
the more priceless on account of it. He went back into the hut. Through
the chinks of the shutter the morning stretched a grey finger; the room
was filled with a vaporous twilight.

"We travel to Bologna," said he. "I will not have you wasted. Other
women may slink into kennels and stop their ears--not you. The King is
true to you. You are for the King."

As she had not argued before, she did not argue now. She nodded her head
and fastened her cloak about her throat. She followed him out of the hut
and down the gorge. In the northeast the sky already flamed, and the sun
was up before they reached the road. They walked silently towards Peri,
and Wogan was wondering whether in her heart she despised him when she
stopped.

"I am to marry the King," said she.

"Yes," said Wogan.

"But you?" she said with her brows in a frown; "there is no compulsion
on you to marry--anyone."

Wogan was relieved of his fears. He broke into a laugh, to which she
made no reply. She still waited frowning for his answer.

"No woman," he said, "will ride on my black horse into my city of
dreams. You may be very sure I will not marry."