e been mortal she had surely died. This then was the man whom she
had chosen to love, this was he whom last night she should have wed.
Once more the Gods had made a mock of her. So had it ever been, so
should it ever be. Loveless she had lived all her life days, now she
had learned to love once and for ever--and this was the fruit of it!
She clasped the curtain lest she should sink to the earth, and hearing
a sound looked forth. A multitude of men came down the hall. Before them
walked ten soldiers bearing a litter on their shoulders. In the litter
lay a man gagged and fettered with fetters of bronze so that he might
not stir, and they bore him as men bear a stag from the chase or a wild
bull to the sacrifice. It was the Wanderer's self, the Wanderer overcome
at last, and he seemed so mighty even in his bonds, and his eyes shone
with so fierce a light, that the crowd shrank from him as though in
fear. Thus did Helen see her Love and Lord again as they bore him
dishonoured to his dungeon cell. She saw, and a moan and a cry burst
from her heart. A moan for her own woe and a cry for the shame and
faithlessness of him whom she must love.

"Oh, how fallen art thou, Odysseus, who wast of men the very first," she
cried.

He heard it and knew the voice of her who cried, and he gazed around.
The great veins swelled upon his neck and forehead, and he struggled so
fiercely that he fell from the litter to the ground. But he might not
rise because of the fetters, nor speak because of the gag, so they
lifted him again and bore him thence.

And after him went all the multitude save Rei alone. For Rei was fallen
in shame and grief because of the tale that he had heard and of the deed
of darkness that the man he loved had done. For not yet did he remember
and learn to doubt. So he stood hiding his eyes in his hand, and as he
stood Helen came forth and touched him on the shoulder, saying:

"Lead me hence, old man. Lead me back to my temple. My Love is lost
indeed, but there where I found it I will abide till the Gods make their
will clear to me."

He bowed, saying no word, and following Helen stepped into the centre of
the hall. There he stopped, indeed, for down it came the Queen, her hair
streaming, all her robes disordered, and her face stained with tears.
She was alone save for Kurri the Sidonian, who followed her, and she
walked wildly as one distraught who knows not where she goes nor why.
Helen saw her also.

"Who is this r