"You will not escape?" gasped Quinnox.

"I will not be dragged away without seeing her," he answered,
resolutely, throwing himself on the bed.

"Damned young ass!" growled Dangloss. The soldier's teeth grated.
A moment later the slab door closed softly, a key rattled, and his
visitors were gone--messengers bearing to him the most positive proof of
devotion that man could exact. What had she offered to do for his
sake? She had planned his escape, had sanctioned the commission of an
unparalleled outrage against the laws of her land--she, of all women, a
Princess! But she also had sought to banish him from the shrine at which
his very soul worshiped, a fate more cruel and unendurable than the one
she would have saved him from.

He looked at his hands and saw the black stains from the charred letter,
last evidence of the crime against the state. A tender light came to
his eyes, a great lump struggled to his throat, and he kissed the sooty
spots, murmuring her name again and again. How lonely he was! how cold
and cheerless his cage! For the first time he began to appreciate the
real seriousness of his position. Up to this time he had regarded
it optimistically, confident of vindication and acquittal. His only
objection to imprisonment grew out of annoyance and the mere deprivation
of liberty. It had not entered his head that he was actually facing
death at close range. Of course, it had been plain to him that the
charges were serious, and that he was awkwardly situated, but the true
enormity of his peril did not dawn upon him until freedom was offered in
such a remarkable manner. He grew cold and shuddered instinctively as he
realized that his position was so critical that the princess had deemed
it necessary to resort to strategic measures in order to save him from
impending doom. Starting to his feet he paced the floor, nervousness
turning to dread, dread to terror. He pounded on the door and cried
aloud. Oh, if he could but bring back those kindly messengers!

Exhausted, torn by conflicting emotions, he at last dropped to the bed
and buried his face in his arms, nearly mad with the sudden solitude of
despair. He recalled her dear letter--the tender, helping hand that
had been stretched out to lift him from the depths into which he was
sinking. She had written--he could see the words plainly--that his
danger was great; she could not endure life until she knew him to be
safely outside the bounds of Graustark. His life wa