'No, no. Bide here,' and passed her hand through his ruffled hair.

'I would slay thee an thou were false to me,' he whispered over her
hand. 'Get thee with me.'

She said, 'No, no,' again in a stifled voice.

He cried urgently:

'Come! Come! By all our pacts. By all our secret vows.'

She shook her head, sobbing:

'Poor fool. Poor fool. I am very lonely.'

He clutched her tightly and whispered in a hoarse voice:

'It were merrier at home now. Thou didst vow. At home now. Of a
summer's night....'

She whispered: 'Peace. Peace.'

'At home now. In June, thou didst....'

She said urgently: 'Be still. Wouldst thou woo me again to the
grunting of hogs?'

'Aye, would I,' he answered. 'Thou didst....'

She moved convulsively in her chair. He grasped her more tightly.

'Thou yieldest, I know thee!' he cried triumphantly. He staggered to
his feet, still holding her hand.

'Thou shalt come to Paris. Sha't be lodged like a Princess. Sha't see
great sights.'

She sprang up, tearing herself from him.

'Get thee gone from here,' she shivered. 'I am done with starving with
thee. I know thy apple orchard wooings. Get thee gone from here. It is
late. I shall be shamed if a man be seen to leave my room so late.'

'Why, I would not have thee shamed, Kat,' he muttered, her strenuous
tone making him docile as a child.

'Get thee gone,' she answered, panting. 'I will not starve.'

'Wilt not come with me?' he asked ruefully. 'Thou didst yield in my
arms.'

'I do bid thee begone,' she answered imperiously. 'Get thee gold if
thou would'st have me. I have starved too much with thee.'

'Why, I will go,' he muttered. 'Buss me. For I depart towards Dover
to-night, else this springald cardinal will be gone from Paris ere I
come.'

IV

'Men shall make us cry, in the end, steel our hearts how we will,' she
said to Margot Poins, who found her weeping with her head down upon
the table above a piece of paper.

'I would weep for no man,' Margot answered.

Large, florid, fair, and slow speaking, she gave way to one of her
impulses of daring that covered her afterwards with immense blushes
and left her buried in speechless confusion. 'I could never weep for
such an oaf as your cousin. He beats good men.'

'Once he sold a farm to buy me a gown,' Katharine said, 'and he goes
to a sure death if I may not stay him.'

'It is even the province of men--to die,' Margot answered. Her voice,
gruff with emotion, astonished her