shermen, and to talk with light women, and to consort with rascals,
and at last to die between two cutpurses, ignominiously! If Christ
Himself achieved so little that seemed great and admirable, how should
we two hope to do any more?"

He answered: "It is true. Of anise and of cumin the Master gets His
tithe--" Maudelain broke off with a yapping laugh. "Puf! Heaven is
wiser than we. I am King of England. It is my heritage."

"It means war. Many will die, thousands will die, and to no betterment
of affairs."

"I am King of England. I am Heaven's satrap here, and answerable to
Heaven alone. It is my heritage." And now his large and cruel eyes
were aflame as he regarded her.

And visibly beneath their glare the woman changed. "My friend, must I
not love you any longer? You would be content with happiness? Then I
am jealous of that happiness! for you are the one friend that I have
had, and so dear to me--Look you!" she said, with a light, wistful
laugh, "there have been times when I was afraid of everything you
touched, and I hated everything you looked at. I would not have you
stained; I desired to pass my whole life between the four walls of
some dingy and eternal gaol, forever alone with you, lest you become
like other men. I would in that period have been the very bread you
eat, the least perfume which delights you, the clod you touch in
crushing it, and I have often loathed some pleasure I derived from
life because I might not transfer it to you undiminished. For I wanted
somehow to make you happy to my own anguish.... It was wicked, I
suppose, for the imagining of it made me happy, too."

Now while he listened to this dear and tranquil speaking, Edward
Maudelain's raised hands had fallen like so much lead, and remembering
his own nature, he longed for annihilation, before she had appraised
his vileness. He said:

"With reason Augustine crieth out against the lust of the eyes. 'For
pleasure seeketh objects beautiful, melodious, fragrant, savory, and
soft; but this disease those contrary as well, not for the sake of
suffering annoyance, but out of the lust of making trial of them!' Ah!
ah! too curiously I planned my own damnation, too presumptuously I had
esteemed my soul a worthy scapegoat, and I had gilded my enormity with
many lies. Yet indeed, indeed, I had believed brave things, I had
planned a not ignoble bargain--! Ey, say, is it not laughable,
madame?--as my birth-right Heaven accords me a penny, and with