I have it here in my hand. Head! Read! _I will save my soul! I will save
my soul_!"

And ere any one could stop her, the Lady Ysolinde, sobbing and laughing
both at once, had overleaped the light barrier, and was thrusting a
parchment with a seal into the hands of the Chancellor Michael Texel.

"She is mad. Let the justice of the realm be done!" cried again the voice
of Master Gerard.

And I think the Duke would have ordered it to be so. But there arose not
only a roar from the people, but, what Otho minded far more, an ominous
murmur among the nobles and gentlemen and from the ranks of men-at-arms.

"The law! The law! Read us the law!"

And even Otho dare not trifle with the will of the free companions of the
Mark. For in all the realm they were now his only supporters. Helene had
risen to her feet, and stood, pale of face but erect, resting, as was her
wont, one hand on my shoulder.

Then Michael Texel read the scroll aloud.

"It is the immemorial privilege of the Hereditary Executioner of the
Mark, being of the family of Gottfried, a privilege not to be abrogated
or alienated, that during the term of office of each, he may claim--not
as a boon, but as a right--the life of one man for a bond-servant, or the
life of one woman for a wife. Thus, by order of the States' Council, to
be the privilege of the Gottfrieds forever, it has been proclaimed!"

As Michael Texel went on, I saw the countenance of the Duke and the
lawyer change. I knew that salvation had come to us like lightning from a
clear sky, and I hastened to demand the right which was mine own.

So soon as he had finished I shouted with all my power:

"I CLAIM HELENE TO BE MY WIFE!"

Then went up such an acclaim from the people as never had been heard in
the ancient city. Even the gentlemen within the enclosure threw their
hats in the air. The soldiers put their helmets on the points of their
spears, and the captains waved their colors as at a victory. The thunder
of the cheering roused the very rooks and jackdaws from the towers of
Thorn and the bastions of the Wolfsberg till they went drifting in a
black cloud clamorously over the city.

Then Helene put her arms about my neck, and, upon the scaffold of death,
before all the people, we plighted our troth.

"The Bishop--the Bishop Peter!" cried the people.

And, leaping upon an officer's horse, a messenger rode post-haste to the
palace, the crowd making way for him. Duke Otho disappeared through