Flavian looked towards the gold of the west. His mood was calm and deliberate; he had his enthusiasms in leash for the moment, for there were more mundane matters in his mind--matters that were not savoury, however crimson shone the ideal years. "I have thrown down the glove," he said, "for good or evil, honour or dishonour. I will tell you the whole truth." Yeoland, watching his face, felt her impatient dreads goad her to the quick. "Will you talk for ever?" she said to him. "Take the core then. I am going to rend my bonds as I would rend flax. I have appealed to the Church; I have poured out gold." "To the point, messire." "I shall divorce my wife." He threw his head back, and challenged the world in her one person. Her good favour was more to him than the patronage of Pope or King. It was in his mind that she should believe the worst of him from the beginning, so that in some later season he might not emulate Lucifer, toppled out of the heaven of her heart. She should have the truth from the first, and build her opinion of him on no fanciful basis. Even in this justice to the more sinister side of his surroundings, he was an idealist, thorough and enthusiastic. "So you must understand, madame, that I am not without blemishes, not without things that I myself would rather see otherwise. With me it is a question of going to hell for a woman, or getting rid of her. Being an egotist, I choose the latter alternative." Yeoland still evaded his eyes. "And the woman loves you?" "Not an atom; she only cares to be called the Lady of Gambrevault, Signoress of Avalon, the first dame in the south." "Why do you tell me this?" "Madame, have I need of more words? It is for this: that you might not picture me as I am not, or form any false conception of me. I have bared my moral skeleton to you. Perhaps you will never know what it costs a man at times to make his mind as glass to the woman he honours above the whole world." "Well?" "It is because I honour you that I have goaded myself to tell you the whole truth." Her verdict was more sudden and more human than he might have expected. "Messire, you are a brave man," she said; "I believe I am beginning to trust you." The sky flamed into sunset; the tracery of the trees seemed webbed with gold into shimmering domes and fans of quivering light. In the distance, the great cliff stood out darkly from the scarlet caverns of the west. The pine tops rose like the black spires of some vast city. Above, floated clouds, effulgent mounts of fire, hurled from the abysmal furnace of the sun. Flavian came two steps nearer to the woman, leaning against the tree. "Give me my due," he said; "I have uncovered the difficult workings of my heart, I have shown you the inner man in his meaner mould. Suffer me to speak of my manhood in godlier words. I have shown you Winter; let me utter forth Spring." Yeoland turned and faced him at last.