_For Fear was gone. The World of Woe had fallen from his shoulders. The Snake was to him but a wretched reptile whose head he would crush ere it bruised his heel. He was sane—he was safe—he was a Man again, and ere many days were past he would be the husband of Lucille and the master of Monksmead._ “Oh, God forgive me for a blind, rebellious worm,” he prayed. “Forgive me, and strike not this cup from my lips. You would not punish the blasphemy of a madman? I _cannot_ pray in ordered forms, but I beg forgiveness for my hasty cry ‘There is on God’ …” and then pressed the Sword to his lips—the Sword that, under God, had overthrown the Snake for ever, saved his reason—and given him Lucille…. With the Sword in his hand he lay on the bed once more, and slept the sweet, dreamless sleep of a healthy, happy child. In the morning, when he awoke, his eyes fell upon the still living cobra that appeared to watch him with the hate of a baffled Lucifer as it lay broken-backed, impotent, and full of vicious fury. Rising, Damocles de Warrenne stepped across to the reptile, and, with a quick snatch, seized it behind the head and raised it from the ground. Staring into its baleful, evil-looking eyes, he remarked:— “Well, mine ancient enemy and almost victor! I’m not of a particularly vengeful disposition, but I fancy a few of your brethren have got to die before I leave India. Why, you poor wretched worm, you miserable maggot,—to think what I have _suffered_” and he angrily dashed it on the ground and spurned it with his foot. “Easy to do that when your back’s broken, you think?” he continued. “Right-O, my lad, wait till I find your mate, and we’ll see. Hand to hand, no weapons—my quickness and strength against his quickness and venom. Snakes! The paltriest things that crawl”—and he kicked the reptile into a corner and burst into song as he busied himself about preparations for washing, food for himself and the camel, and—_return_. After enough food to hearten them both for the thirty-mile journey he would go as fast as camel’s legs could move to Lucille and the announcement that would send her frantic with joy. He would take her in his arms—then they would waltz for an hour to keep themselves from behaving like lunatics…. Fear was dead! The SNAKE was dead—killed by the SWORD, the Sword that Lucille had brought, and thereby saved him! Madness was dead! Joy, Peace, Sanity, Health were come—the wedding-bells were trembling to burst into peals of joyous announcement. He would, for Lucille’s sake and the names of de Warrenne and Stukeley, show whether he was a Coward or a snake-fearing Lunatic, an epileptic, an unfit-to-marry monstrosity and freak. He would show the Harley Street physicians how much he feared snakes, and would challenge them to an undertaking which would give them food for thought before acceptance…. Where were his boots? He must fly to Lucille!…