towards him was strange once more, like the face
of Fatal Love rising clear from the crash of its universe. She had drunk
the half of a bitter cup, and the remainder she must drink; but when all
was said, she was going, after weary months, to see the face of the man
she loved. Philip Sidney lifted the latch of the door, saw her enter,
and let it fall behind her.

The room in which she found herself was ruddy with firelight, the flames
coloring the marble chimney-piece and causing faint shadows to chase one
another across an arras embroidered with a hunting scene. Upon a heavy
table were thrown a cloak and mask.

The man who had worn them turned from the window, came forward a few
paces, and stood still. Damans put forth her hand, and leaned for
strength against the chimney-piece--a beautiful woman in the heart of
the glow from the fire. At first she said no word, for she was thinking
dully. "If he comes no nearer, it must be true. If he crosses not the
shadow on the floor between us, it must be true." At last she asked, in
a low voice,

"Is it true?"

In the profound silence that followed she made a step forward out of the
red glow towards the bar of shadow. Ferne stayed her with a gesture
of his hand.

"Yes, it is true," he said. "It is true, unless, indeed, there be no
answer to Pilate's 'What is truth?' For myself, I walk in a whirling
world and a darkness shot with fire. Did I do this thing? Yea, verily, I
did! Then, seeing that I dwell not in Edmund Spenser's faerie-land nor
believe that an enchanter's wand may make white seem black and black
seem white, I now see myself nakedly as I am,--a man who knew not
himself; a sword, jewel--hilted, with a blade of lath; a gay masker
whom, his vizard torn away, the servants thrust forth into the cold! I
am my own assassin, forger, abhorred fool!"

He paused, and the embers fell, growing gray in the silence. At last he
spoke again, in a changed voice. "Thy brother, lady.... There will not
lack those to tell thee that I tripped him with my foot, that I slew him
with my dagger. It is not true, and yet I count myself his murderer....
See the shadow at thy feet, the heavy shadow that lies between you and
me!... How may I say that I would have given my life for him who was thy
brother and my charge, whom for his own sake I loved, when I gave not my
life, when I bought my life with his and many another's?... Thou dost
well to say no word, but I would that thou didst not pres