"Fool, you'll be sufficiently punished—by your own device."
He let his eyes drift again to the Princess Gabrielle.
"And thou," he said, "art sufficiently punished already."
III.
It happened to be a day of late spring; and as Gaspard and this strangely wedded bride of his and her parents came out of the castle, both fed and forgiven, it must have seemed to all of them that this was the most auspicious moment of their lives. The old folks, who had partaken freely of the generous wines pressed upon them, had now passed from their trembling terror to a spirit of frolic. Arm in arm, their sabots clogging, they did a rigadoon down the winding road. It was a spirit of tender elation, though, that dominated Gaspard and Susette. They were like two beings distilled complete from the mild and fragrant air, the sweet mistiness of the verdant valley, the purpling solemnity of the Juras.
"What did he mean, his highness?" asked Susette as she pressed the smith's arm closer to her side. "What did he mean that you'd be punished by your own device?"
Gaspard looked down at her, pressed her manacled wrist to his lips, took thought.
"I don't know," he answered gently. "He must be crazy. It's like calling it punishment when a true believer receives the reward of paradise."
"You love me so much as that?"