And it was she through whom the guns had come! The meaning of the guns had spread now to every hearth; what had once been hailed as an achievement second only to her exploit in the Street of the Fountain served now to point more finely the sharpening fears of superstition. The men held by her still, but their wives were grumbling at them in their homes. Was she not, after all, a stranger? Must Volseni lie in the dust for her sake, for the sake of her who wore that ominous, inexplicable Star?
Dunstanbury knew all this; Lukovitch hardly sought to deny it, though he was full of scorn for it; and Marie Zerkovitch had by heart the tales of many wise old beldams who had prophesied this and that from the first moment that they saw the Red Star. Surely and not slowly the enthusiasm which had crowned Sophy was turning into a fear which made the people shrink from her even while they pitied, even while they did not cease to love. The hand of heaven was against her and against those who were near her, said the women. The men still feigned not to hear; had they not taken Heaven to witness that they would serve her and avenge the King? Alas, their simple vow was too primitive for days like these—too primitive for the days of the great guns which lay on the bosom of the Krath!
Dunstanbury had an interview with Sophy early on the Tuesday morning, the day after Stafnitz had started for Kolskoï. He put his case with the bluntness and honesty native to him. In his devotion to her safety he did not spare her the truth. She listened with the smile devoid of happiness which her face now wore so often.
"I know it all," she said. "They begin to look differently at me as I walk through the street—when I go to the church. If I stay here long enough, they'll all call me a witch! But didn't they swear? And I—haven't I sworn? Are we to do nothing for Monseigneur's memory?"
"What can we do against the guns? The men can die, and the walls be tumbled down! And there are the women and children!"
"Yes, I suppose we can do nothing. But it goes to my heart that they should have Monseigneur's guns."
"Your guns!" Dunstanbury reminded her with a smile of whimsical sympathy.
"That's what they say in the city, too?" she asked.
"The old hags, who are clever at the weather and other mysteries. And, of course, Madame Zerkovitch!"
Sophy's smile broadened a little. "Oh, of course, poor little Marie Zerkovitch!" she exclaimed. "She's been sure I'm a witch ever since she's known me."