k you, to what trivial matters He devoted
that brief space! Only to chat with fishermen, and to reason with lost
women, and habitually to consort with rascals, till at last He might
die between two cutpurses, ignominiously! Were the considerate persons
of His day moved at all by the death of this fanatic? I bid you now
enumerate through what long halls did the sleek heralds proclaim His
crucifixion! and the armament of great-jowled emperors that were
distraught by it?"

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

"It means war. Many will die, many 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
flamed 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? 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 but to pass my whole life between the four walls of some dingy
and eternal gaol, forever alone with you, lest you become as 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
often I have 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."

Throughout she spoke as simply as a child.

And beside him Maudelain's hands had fallen like so much lead, and
remembering his own nature, he longed for annihilation only, before she
had appraised his vileness. In consequence 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 presumptuo