“I had thought,” said he, in an even voice, “that if I were to speak of that the walls of this cave would cry out upon me for vengeance delayed. But I have considered, and a little I will tell you. You must know; for the hour will come when you will help me in my vengeance, and you might weaken, for you do not comprehend the mad sweetness of hate. You are born for a great happiness or a great sorrow, and either destiny may make one blunt to hate. “I was a poor gentleman of Blois, part fop, part fantastical scholar, a dabbler in magic, and a lover of women. My nature pulled two ways. I was alone in the world, save for a little sister, beautiful, just come to womanhood, whom I loved as daughter and sister both. She thought me the wonderful among men. It chanced that at last I knew another love. A woman, the wife of a witless pantaloon of the neighbourhood, ensnared all my wits, till I saw life only in her eyes. Her husband came upon us in her garden—and for his reproaches I beat him cruelly. But he, though not a man, was not all fool. For loving his wife he could not punish me—I being stronger and more popular than he; but he knew that for theft the law would hang a man. He hid a treasure of jewels, and with a nice cunning fixed the crime upon me. It was clear as daylight, so that almost myself believed myself guilty. In a foul, reeking cell in the city wall I awaited judgment and the penalty. “A confession makes the work of the judges easier, and as I would not confess I was to be tortured—when the Court was ready; all in good time. “At Blois was a young blade renowned no less for his conquests of women than for his ill-favoured face. His ugliness prevailed where the beauty of other men found virtue an impregnable wall against it. He courted my sister. She repulsed him. It got about and shamed him. Then (I this while in prison, and she helpless) he laid a public wager with his fellows that he would have her innocence. “He told her I was to be tortured. After a time he told her he could save me from that extremity. This thought worked for a time upon her lonely anguish. Then he swore he _would_ save me—but at a price. “At last the price was paid. He won his wager. On the day that I was tortured she killed herself before the judges. He, astonished, fled to Italy, hid in a monastery, and dedicated himself to the missions of the New World. “The judges were, after all, men. They said the evidence against me was insufficient. They set me free, as an avenger. “I have not been in haste. The man has grown more evil year by year; so I have waited. I will not send him to his account till the score is full. The deepest hell must be ready, and gape for him. Meanwhile, his soul has dwelt all these years alone with fear. He is a brave man, but he knows I wait—he knows not for what; and he sweats and is afraid!” He told the story simply, quietly; but there was madness in his voice. The unspeakable thing choked me. I got up.