"Prince," replied the young girl, "I know not how it may have pleased God to fashion me; but if it be, indeed, beauty that He has given me—then is beauty a fatal gift?"
"How so?" said the King, with rising interest. The girl stood silent. She reddened, and bent her head still lower. Her breast heaved, and the tears flowed down.
"Prince," she said in broken tones, "I am ... guilty ... and I come to yield myself into your hands." All eyes looked at her in astonishment.
"Guilty, my child, you!" said Gontran, not less amazed than the others. "That is not easily believed."
"Yet it is true, Prince; and the proof is, that for three days I have seen neither father nor mother."
"And where are your parents?"
"At Châlon."
"And why have you not seen them for so long?"
"I dared not return to them. Look, Prince, look!" She loosened a fold of her dress; and there, plain for all to see, was a large, red, stain.
"Blood!" cried Gontran.