“Nor shall again, dear lord, if I have strength.”
She heard the man muttering to himself a moment, but this time there was no smiting of the door, no fume and tempest. His mood seemed more temperate, less masterful, as though he were half heavy at heart.
“Igraine—”
“Why do you whimper like a dog?” she said; “go, get you to war. What are you to me?”
“When will you learn reason?”
“When you are dead, sire.”
“Perhaps I deserve all this.”
“Are you so much a penitent?”
Her mockery seemed to lift Gorlois to a higher range of passion, and there was great bitterness in his voice as he tossed back words to her with a quick kindling of desire.