“Marie! it will make my life—come!”
She said nothing, but stood still as a stone, her bosom heaving, and her eyes wet with tears. I tried to draw her towards me, to kiss her, but she shrank back.
“Not now,” she whispered, and my arm dropped to my side, and we stood gazing at each other, two wandering souls that had passed out into the unknown seas. At last she spoke again, her words coming slowly and with an effort.
“You will never regret, Vibrac? Will you?”
“My queen! Can you ask?” And bending low I touched her hand with my lips. She drew back once more quickly, and pulling her hood up, held the folds at her neck with her hand as she said:
“I must go—let me go now.”
“Until compline—and you will be at the wicket gate?”
She but bent her head in reply, and turned as if to go. It was at this moment that we heard voices in the corridor outside, and then a hurried knocking at the door. Marie ran back to my side with a little gasp.
“They are come to take you—oh, Vibrac!”
But there was no tread of spurred heels, no clash of arms, only that insistent knocking, and then a voice: