imed, "For more than one reason."

Then, rising, he paced the room several times with a somewhat limping
gait, saying, in so loud a tone that it could be distinctly heard in the
dark, sultry garden: "Because it shows little delicacy of feeling when
the man who is satiated tells the starving one of the dainty meal which
he has just eaten; because--because I call it shameful for a person who
can see to tell one who is blind of the pleasure he derives from the
splendid colours of gay flowers; because I expect from the woman whom I
honour with my love more consideration for me and what shadows my life.
Because"--and here he raised his voice still more angrily--"I demand
from any one united to me, the Emperor, by whatever bond----"

The marquise had been unable to hear more of the monarch's violent
attack, for the messenger who had just brought the unwelcome news--it
was Adrian Dubois--had not only passed her, but ventured to call to her
and remark that she would be wise to go into the house--a thunderstorm
was rising. He was not afraid of the rain, and would wait there for his
Majesty.

So the listener did not hear how the incensed monarch continued with the
demand that the woman he loved should neither tell him falsehoods nor
deceive him.

Until then Barbara had listened, silent and pale, biting her trembling
lips in order to adhere to her resolve to submit without reply to
whatever Charles's terrible irritability inflicted upon her. But he must
have noticed what was passing in her mind, for he suddenly paused in
his walk, and, abruptly standing before her, gazed full into her face,
exclaiming: "It is not you who are offended, but I, the sovereign
whom you say you love. Day before yesterday I forbade you to go to the
musician in Red Cock Street, yet you were with him to-day. I asked
you just now whether you had obeyed me and, with smiling lips, you
assented."

Barbara was already prepared with an answer in harmony with the
sharpness of the attack, yet her lover's reproof was well founded.

When he had left the room shortly before he must have been informed
that, in defiance of his explicit command, she had gone to the knight's
house that morning.

But no one had ever charged her with lack of courage. Why had she not
dared to confess the fault which, from a good and certainly pardonable
impulse, she had committed?

Was she not free, or when had she placed herself under obligation to
render blind obedience to her l