y didn't I see at once you were starving! Poor child, poor little
one! You seemed so gay, dancing about; your cheeks were so red and
now--Ah no, it is better--the colour is coming back slowly. The wine
brings a flush."

The girl lay back with her eyes closed, sipping the wine from the glass
as he held it. "Is there plenty of time, Velasco?" she said faintly.

He looked at the hands of the malachite clock on the mantel. They
pointed to ten and presently it began to strike.

"Yes--yes." he whispered, "Lie still. Let me feed you. We will go
presently."

"What was that on the stairway?" she said, "Was it a noise?--I thought
I heard something."

She opened her eyes and started up; and with the sudden movement, the
glass in her hand tipped and spilled over. "It is nothing," she said,
"It fell on my hand. I will wipe it away."

Velasco laughed. "Your hand!" he cried, "Your hand is a rose leaf, so
soft and so white. The wine has stained it with a blotch. How
strange! It is red, it is crimson--a spot like blood."

The girl blanched suddenly and fell back with a cry.

"Not blood, Velasco! Wipe it off! Take it away! Not blood! Oh, take
it away!"

Her eyes stared down at the blotch on her hand. They were frightened,
dilated, and her whole body quivered in the chair. "Velasco--take it
away!"

He put down the glass and took the small, white hand in his own,
brushing it gently with the sleeve of his jacket. "There now," he
said, "it is gone. It was only a drop of wine. Hush--hush! See,
there is no blood, Kaya, I never meant there was blood. Don't scream
again!"

"It's the Cross!" she cried, "the curse of the Black Cross! Ah,
go--leave me! I am a murderess! I shot him, Velasco, I shot him! I
fulfilled the vow, the oath of the order. But now--oh God! I am
cursed! Not blood--not blood!"

She was struggling to her feet.

"_Without weakness, without hesitation, or mercy_. I did it!
Velasco--I did it!"

She fell back into the chair again, sobbing, murmuring to herself.
"Not blood--no--not blood!"

"That is over and past," said Velasco, "Don't think of it, Kaya. Be a
boy, a man, not weak like a woman. Eat the rest of the bread."

The girl took the bread from his hand.

"Finish the wine."

He held the glass to her lips until she had drained it; and then she
began to laugh a little unsteadily.

"You are right," she said, "a boy doesn't--weep. I must be strong, a
good comrade." She