"But as to myself, Madam? The bargain?"

"I arrive, Monsieur! If she fails you, then I ask only time. I have said
to you I am a woman!"

"Madam," I said to her once more, "who are you and what are you?"

In answer, she looked me once more straight in the face. "Some day,
back there, after I have made my journey, I shall tell you."

"Tell me now."

"I shall tell you nothing. I am not a little girl. There is a bargain
which I offer, and the only one I shall offer. It is a gamble. I have
gambled all my life. If you will not accord me so remote a chance as
this, why, then, I shall take it in any case."

"I begin to see, Madam," said I, "how large these stakes may run."

"In case I lose, be sure at least I shall pay. I shall make my
atonement," she said.

"I doubt not that, Madam, with all your heart and mind and soul."

"And _body_!" she whispered. The old horror came again upon her face.
She shuddered, I did not know why. She stood now as one in devotions for
a time, and I would no more have spoken than had she been at her
prayers, as, indeed, I think she was. At last she made some faint
movement of her hands. I do not know whether it was the sign of the
cross.

She rose now, tail, white-clad, shimmering, a vision of beauty such as
that part of the world certainly could not then offer. Her hair was
loosened now in its masses and drooped more widely over her temples,
above her brow. Her eyes were very large and dark, and I saw the faint
blue shadows coming again beneath them. Her hands were clasped, her
chin raised just a trifle, and her gaze was rapt as that of some longing
soul. I could not guess of these things, being but a man, and, I fear,
clumsy alike of body and wit.

[Illustration: "I want--" said she. "I wish--I wish--" Page 287]

"There is one thing, Madam, which we have omitted," said I at last.
"What are _my_ stakes? How may I pay?"

She swayed a little on her feet, as though she were weak. "I want," said
she, "I wish--I wish--"

The old childlike look of pathos came again. I have never seen so sad a
face. She was a lady, white and delicately clad; I, a rude frontiersman
in camp-grimed leather. But I stepped to her now and took her in my arms
and held her close, and pushed back the damp waves of her hair. And
because a man's tears were in my eyes, I have no doubt of absolution
when I say I had been a cad and a coward had I not kissed her own tears
away. I no longer made pretense of ignorance,