his feet, and took his sword by the blade beneath the hilt, and turned
the point of it towards his heart. And Osra, fearing that the deed
would be done immediately, called out eagerly, "My lord, my lord!" and
Monsieur de Merosailles turned round with a great start. When he saw
her, he stood in astonishment, his hand still holding the blade of the
sword. And, standing just on the other side of the trees, she said:

"Is your offence against me to be cured by adding an offence against
Heaven and the Church?" And she looked on him with great severity; yet
her cheek was flushed, and after a while she did not meet his glance.

"How came you here, madam?" he asked in wonder.

"I heard," she said, "that you meditated this great sin, and I rode
after you to forbid it."

"Can you forbid what you cause?" he asked.

"I am not the cause of it," she said, "but your own trickery."

"It is true. I am not worthy to live," cried the marquis, smiting the
hilt of his sword to the ground. "I pray you, madam, leave me alone
to die, for I cannot tear myself from the world so long as I see your
face." And as he spoke he knelt on one knee, as though he were doing
homage to her.

The princess caught at a bough of the tree under which she stood, and
pulled the bough down so that its leaves half hid her face, and the
marquis saw little more than her eyes from among the foliage. And,
thus being better able to speak to him, she said, softly:

"And dare you die, unforgiven?"

"I had prayed for forgiveness before you found me, madam," said he.

"Of Heaven, my lord?"

"Of Heaven, madam. For of Heaven I dare to ask it."

[Illustration: SHE STOLE UP AND SAW MONSIEUR DE MEROSAILLES SITTING ON
THE GROUND.]

The bough swayed up and down; and now Osra's gleaming hair, and now
her cheek, and always her eyes, were seen through the leaves. And
presently the marquis heard a voice asking:

"Does Heaven forgive unasked?"

"Indeed, no," said he, wondering.

"And," said she, "are we poor mortals kinder than Heaven?"

The marquis rose, and took a step or two towards where the bough
swayed up and down, and then knelt again.

"A great sinner," said he, "cannot believe himself forgiven."

"Then he wrongs the power of whom he seeks forgiveness; for
forgiveness is divine."

"Then I will ask it, and, if I obtain it, I shall die happy."

Again the bough swayed, and Osra said:

"Nay, if you will die, you may die unforgiven."

Monsieur de Merosail