, and
you are good.' Then I have answered, 'You lack wisdom and true
sight, else you would not have chosen Wulf when you might have
taken Godwin. Or perchance your eyes are blinded also.'"

"Speak not thus of one who is my better in all things, I pray
you," said Godwin in a vexed voice.

"By which you mean, whose arm is perhaps a little stronger, and
who at a pinch could cut down a few more Saracens. Well, it takes
more than strength to make a man--you must add spirit."

"Masouda," went on Godwin, taking no note of her words, "although
we may guess her mind, our lady has said nothing yet. Also Wulf
may fall, and then I fill his place as best I can. I am no free
man, Masouda."

"The love-sick are never free," she answered.

"I have no right to love the woman who loves my brother; to her
are due my friendship and my reverence--no more."

"She has not declared that she loves your brother; we may guess
wrongly in this matter. They are your words--not mine."

"And we may guess rightly. What then?"

"Then," answered Masouda, "there are many knightly Orders, or
monasteries, for those who desire such places--as you do in your
heart. Nay, talk no more of all these things that may or may not
be. Back to your tent, Sir Godwin, where I will send Abdullah to
you to receive the jewel. So, farewell, farewell."

He took her outstretched hand, hesitated a moment, then lifted it
to his lips, and went. It was cold as that of a corpse, and fell
against her side again like the hand of a corpse. Masouda shrank
back among the flowers of the garden as though to hide herself
from him and all the world. When he had gone a few paces, eight
or ten perhaps, Godwin turned and glanced behind him, and at that
moment there came a great blaze of lightning. In its fierce and
fiery glare he saw Masouda standing with outstretched arms, pale,
upturned face, closed eyes, and parted lips. Illumined by the
ghastly sheen of the levin her face looked like that of one new
dead, and the tall red lilies which climbed up her dark,
pall-like robe to her throat--yes, they looked like streams of
fresh-shed blood.

Godwin shuddered a little and went his way, but as she slid
thence into the black, embracing night, Masouda said to herself:

"Had I played a little more upon his gentleness and pity, I think
that he would have offered me his heart--after Rosamund had done
with it and in payment for my services. Nay, not his heart, for
he has none on earth, bu