the
first blow. At whom? Gabord? It all flashed through my mind how I might
do it when he came in again: bury this blade in his neck or heart--it
was long enough for the work; then, when he was dead, change my clothes
for his, take his weapons, and run my chances to get free of the
citadel. Free? Where should I go in the dead of winter? Who would hide
me, shelter me? I could not make my way to an English settlement. Ill
clad, exposed to the merciless climate, and the end death. But that was
freedom--freedom! I could feel my body dilating with the thought, as I
paced my dungeon like an ill-tempered beast. But kill Gabord, who had
put himself in danger to serve me, who himself had kept the chains from
off my ankles and body, whose own life depended upon my security--"Come,
come, Robert Moray," said I, "what relish have you for that? That's an
ill game for a gentleman. Alixe Duvarney would rather see you dead than
get your freedom over the body of this man."

That was an hour of storm. I am glad that I conquered the baser part of
me; for, almost before I had grown calm again, the bolts of the dungeon
doors shot back, and presently Gabord stepped inside, followed by a
muffled figure.

"Voban the barber," said Gabord in a strange voice, and stepping again
outside, he closed the door, but did not shoot the bolts.

I stood as one in a dream. Voban the barber? In spite of cap and great
fur coat, I saw the outline of a figure that no barber ever had in this
world. I saw two eyes shining like lights set in a rosy sky. A moment
of doubt, of impossible speculation, of delicious suspense, and then the
coat of Voban the barber opened, dropped away from the lithe, graceful
figure of a young officer of marines, the cap flew off, and in an
instant the dear head, the blushing, shining face of Alixe was on my
breast.

In that moment, stolen from the calendar of hate, I ran into the haven
where true hearts cast anchor and bless God that they have seen upon the
heights, to guide them, the lights of home. The moment flashed by and
was gone, but the light it made went not with it.

When I drew her blushing face up, and stood her off from me that I might
look at her again, the colour flew back and forth on her cheek, as you
may see the fire flutter in an uncut ruby when you turn it in the sun.
Modestly drawing the cloak she wore more closely about her, she hastened
to tell me how it was she came in such a guise; but I made her pause for