ance don't come till he's dead." . . . Looking back across
these years I can smile at the boy I was and forgive his poor brave
flourish. But his speech was thoughtless: the woman (ah! but he
knows her better now) was withdrawn with its wound in her heart: and
between them Death was stepping forward to make the misunderstanding
final.

I remember setting my shoulder-blades firmly against the bole of the
tree. A kind of indignation sustained me; a scorn to be cut off
thus, a scorn especially for the two cowards by the doorway.
They were talking with the Commandant. Their voices sounded across
the interval between me and the firing-party. Why were they wasting
time? . . .

I could not distinguish their words, save that twice I heard the
Prince curse viciously. The hound (I told myself, shutting my teeth)
might have restrained his tongue for a few moments.

The voices ceased. In a long pause I heard the insects humming in
the grasses at my feet. Would the moment never come?

It came at last. A flash of light winked above the edge of my
bandage, and close upon it broke the roar and rattle of the
volley . . . Death? I put out my hands and groped for it.
Where was Death?

Nay, perhaps this _was_ Death? If so, what fools were men to fear
it! The hum of the insects had given place to silence--absolute
silence. If bullet had touched me, I had felt no pang at all.
I was standing, yes, surely I was standing . . . Slowly it broke on
me that I was unhurt, that they had fired wide, prolonging their
sport with me; and I tore away the bandage, crying out upon them to
finish their cruelty.

At a little distance sat the Princess watching me, her gun across her
knees. Beyond her and beyond the cottage, by the edge of the wood
the firing-party had fallen into rank and were marching off among the
pine-stems, the Prince and Father Domenico with them. I stared
stupidly after the disappearing uniforms, and put out a hand as if to
brush away the smoke which yet floated across the clearing.
The Commandant, turning to follow his men, at the same moment lifted
his hand in salute. So he, too, passed out of sight.

I turned to the Princess. She arose slowly and came to me.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE WOOING OF PRINCESS CAMILLA.

"Take heed of loving me,
At least remember I forbade it thee; . . .
If thou love me, take heed of loving me."
DONNE, _The Prohibition_.

"You