rough, ungenerous tone.

"Admiral Philip d'Avranche, known as his Serene Highness the Duc de
Bercy, has trespassed on me," she answered.

She did not look at Philip, her eyes were fixed upon the Bailly and the
jurats.

The Bailly whispered to one or two jurats. "Wherein is the trespass?"
asked the Bailly sharply. "Tell your story."

After an instant's painful pause, Guida told her tale.

"Last night at Plemont," she said in a voice trembling a little at first
but growing stronger as she went on, "I left my child, my Guilbert, in
his bed, with Dormy Jamais to watch beside him, while I went to my boat
which lies far from my hut. I left Dormy Jamais with the child because
I was afraid--because I had been afraid, these three days past, that
Philip d'Avranche would steal him from me. I was gone but half an hour;
it was dark when I returned. I found the door open, I found Dormy Jamais
lying unconscious on the floor, and my child's bed empty. My child was
gone. He was stolen from me by Philip d'Avranche, Duc de Bercy."

"What proof have you that it was the Duc de Bercy?" asked the Bailly.

"I have told your honour that Dormy Jamais was there. He struck Dormy
Jamais to the ground, and rode off with my child."

The Bailly sniffed.

"Dormy Jamais is a simpleton--an idiot."

"Then let the Prince speak," she answered quickly. She turned and looked
Philip in the eyes. He did not answer a word. He had not moved since she
entered the court-room. He kept his eyes fixed on her, save for one or
two swift glances towards the jurats. The crisis of his life had come.
He was ready to meet it now: anything would be better than all he had
gone through during the past ten days. In mad impulse he had stolen the
child, with the wild belief that through it he could reach Guida, could
bring her to him. For now this woman who despised him, hated him, he
desired more than all else in the world. Ambition has her own means of
punishing. For her gifts of place or fortune she puts some impossible
hunger in the soul of the victim which leads him at last to his own
destruction. With all the world conquered there is still some mystic
island of which she whispers, and to gain this her votary risks all--and
loses all.

The Bailly saw by Philip's face that Guida had spoken truth. But he
whispered with the jurats eagerly, and presently he said with brusque
decision:

"Our law of Haro may only apply to trespass upon property. Its intent is
merely