ashion of Bayard and the Paladins, and in the
teeth of snarling thousands, he had come near to releasing him after
another fashion and at his own expense. Instead of dazzling her by his
mastery and winning her by his magnanimity, he lay here, owing her his
life, and so weak, so broken, that the tears of childhood welled up in
his eyes.

Out of the darkness a hand, cool and firm, slid into his, clasped it
tightly, drew it to warm lips, carried it to a woman's bosom.

"My lord," she murmured, "I was the captive of your sword, and you spared
me. Him I loved you took and spared him too--not once or twice. Angers,
also, and my people you would have saved for my sake. And you thought I
could do this! Oh! shame, shame!" But her hand held his always.

"You loved him," he muttered.

"Yes, I loved him," she answered slowly and thoughtfully. "I loved him."
And she fell silent a minute. Then, "And I feared you," she added, her
voice low. "Oh, how I feared you--and hated you!"

"And now?"

"I do not fear him," she answered, smiling in the darkness. "Nor hate
him. And for you, my lord, I am your wife and must do your bidding,
whether I will or no. I have no choice."

He was silent.

"Is that not so?" she asked.

He tried weakly to withdraw his hand.

But she clung to it. "I must bear your blows or your kisses. I must be
as you will and do as you will, and go happy or sad, lonely or with you,
as you will! As you will, my lord! For I am your chattel, your
property, your own. Have you not told me so?"

"But your heart," he cried fiercely, "is his! Your heart, which you told
me in the meadow could never be mine!"

"I lied," she murmured, laughing tearfully, and her hands hovered over
him. "It has come back! And it is on my lips."

And she leant over and kissed him. And Count Hannibal knew that he had
entered into his kingdom, the sovereignty of a woman's heart.

* * * * *

An hour later there was a stir in the village on the mainland. Lanthorns
began to flit to and fro. Sulkily men were saddling and preparing for
the road. It was far to Challans, farther to Lege--more than one day,
and many a weary league to Ponts de Ce and the Loire. The men who had
ridden gaily southwards on the scent of spoil and revenge turned their
backs on the castle with many a sullen oath and word. They burned a
hovel or two, and stripped such as they spared, after the fashion of the
day; and it had gone ill with the p