end.

"Kill him for me, then! Kill him for me!"

"I cannot kill him," said the bishop. "I pray God it may prove
untrue."

"You are not my friend if you will not kill him," said Osra; and she
turned her face away, and rode yet more quickly.

[Illustration: "KILL HIM FOR ME, THEN! KILL HIM FOR ME!"]

At last they came in sight of the little house that stood back from
the road, and there was a light in one of the upper windows. The
bishop heard a short gasp break from Osra's lips, and she pointed with
her whip to the window. Now his own breath came quick and fast, and he
prayed to God that he might remember his sacred character and his
vows, and not be led into great and deadly sin at the bidding of that
proud, bitter face; and he clenched his left hand, and struck his brow
with it.

Thus, then, they came to the gate of the avenue of trees that led to
the house. Here, having dismounted, and tied their horses to the
gatepost, they stood an instant, and Osra again veiled her face.

"Let me go alone, madam," he implored.

"Give me your sword, and I will go alone," she answered.

"Here, then, is the path," said the bishop; and he led the way by the
moonlight that broke fitfully here and there through the trees.

"He swore that all his life should be mine," she whispered. "Yet I
knew that he did not love me."

The bishop made her no answer; she looked for none, and did not know
that she spoke the bitterness of her heart in words that he could
hear. He bowed his head, and prayed again for her and for himself; for
he had found his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. And thus, side
by side now, they came to the door of the house, and saw a gentleman
standing in front of the door, still but watchful. And Osra knew that
he was the prince's chamberlain.

When the chamberlain saw them he started violently, and clapped a hand
to his sword; but Osra flung her veil on the ground, and the bishop
gripped his arm as with a vise. The chamberlain looked at Osra and at
the bishop, and half drew his sword.

"This matter is too great for you, sir," said the bishop. "It is a
quarrel of princes. Stand aside!" And before the chamberlain could
make up his mind what to do, Osra had passed by him, and the bishop
had followed her.

Finding themselves in a narrow passage, they made out, by the dim
light of a lamp, a flight of stairs that rose from the farthest end of
it. The bishop tried to pass the princess, but she motioned him back