He must get away from New Sparta. But then he shuddered--he and Sparta were still betrothed, as much as they ever had been, he remembered with sudden pain. It hardly lay with decency to call her a slut to her father's face--yet what other reason could he give for so sudden a departure? Then there was Mr. Cave's mad plan of an uprising in the colony--a driving of the Minorcans to revolt. Admitted, he now owed Dr. Gentian little but the hate of a bamboozled sailor for his crimp--the Minorcans were still his friends--Sebastian--he could not go without warning them. Now indeed he felt a net on his body and struggled at the cords in futile disgust. His struggles were interrupted by a light knock at the door. He called. The door opened. Sparta was there. "Why Andrew, dear," she said, looking at him in affectionate surprise. "I thought to find you still in bed with the fever and bring you your supper. But you are well again--and I am so glad." Her voice was the same dropping skein of gold-and-crystal that he remembered--the same enchanter slept in her eyes. He looked at her a long time. No, he could not talk to her now. "My fever's gone," he said at last. "I think I'll come down to supper, if you'll call the boy to lend me his arm." 7. He was sitting at table in Dr. Gentian's chair. The room had not changed its aspect--the fruit-piece by Vandermoulen still hung above the sideboard where silver glimmered in the candleshine. The ladies he supped with took peaches from a bowl and peeled them delicately with silver knives. There was no mark upon their white hands like the mark of a bloody paw--the wine in the decanter at his elbow seemed excellent St. Lucar,--he could savor its bouquet quite naturally. That was odd, thought Andrew dully, as he ate and drank and talked. He felt vaguely that things should have been different--more in keeping with the tiny, persistent sound that tapped like blood flowing from a wound continually inside his head. He had yet to realize that tragedy may occur in a bandbox and that horror needs no set apparatus of skeletons to make the bones feel cold. It was odd too, that he should be eating and drinking. He watched his knife cut a piece of meat, his fork carry it to his mouth. The hand did not falter at all, nor the throat refuse to swallow. All his muscles obeyed him handily--it was clever of them. He could question and reply in a normal voice--he found himself listening with every appearance of attention to a long, tedious account by Mrs. Gentian of some customs of the Spaniards in St. Augustine.