" he said, "at any rate to tell
you one certain, unvarnished truth, which mayhap you will not even care
to believe, and that is that I would give my life--the few chances, that
is, that I still have of it--to obliterate from your mind the memory of
the past few days."

"That you cannot do, sir," she rejoined, "but you would greatly ease the
load of sorrow which you have helped to lay upon me, if you gave me the
assurance which I ask."

The prisoner did not reply immediately, and for one brief moment there
was absolute silence in this tiny room, a silence so tense and so vivid
that an eternity of joy and sorrow, of hope and of fear seemed to pass
over the life of these three human creatures here. All three had eyes
and ears only for one another: the world with its grave events, its
intrigues and its wars fell quite away from them: they were the only
people existing--each for the other--for this one brief instant that
passed by.

The fire crackled in the huge hearth, and slowly the burning wood ashes
fell with a soft swishing sound one by one. But outside all was still:
not a sound of the busy life around the molens, of conspiracies and call
to arms, penetrated the dense veil of fog which lay upon the low-lying
land.

At last the prisoner spoke.

"'Tis easily done, mejuffrouw," he said, and all at once his whole face
lit up with that light-hearted gaiety, that keen sense of humour which
would no doubt follow him to the grave, "that assurance I can easily
give you. I was the sole criminal in the hideous outrage which brought
so much sorrow upon you. Had I the least hope that God would hear the
prayer of so despicable a villain as I am I would beg of Him to grant
you oblivion of my deed. As for me," he added and now real laughter was
dancing in his eyes: they mocked and challenged and called back the joy
of life, "as for me, I am impenitent. I would not forget one minute of
the last four days."

"To-morrow then you can take the remembrance with you to the gallows,"
said Stoutenburg sullenly.

Though a sense of intense relief pervaded him now, since by his
assertions Diogenes had completely vindicated him as well as Nicolaes in

Gilda's sight, his dark face showed no signs of brightening. That fierce
jealousy of this nameless adventurer which had assailed him awhile ago
was gnawing at his heart more insistently than before; he could not
combat it, even though reason itself argued that jealousy of so mean a
knave