He whirled suddenly and flung out an arm toward Rodvard in an oratorical gesture. “Bergelin! I remember; that was the other matter. You were in the Office of Pedigree; know its secrets. Forget the great assembly for the time; that’s under control. Until the new court’s set up your task is seeking out Tuolén’s heiress. I’ll give you an authority.” “It may be somewhat harder than you think,” said Rodvard. “I did not say it would be easy; I said it would be done,” said Mathurin. “Slair, let us go.” II When they were out, he turned to look at Lalette. She had sagged down, with her face in the pillow, and now without moving, she said as before; “Rodvard.” He went across the room and put an arm around her. “What is it?” “My mother. She is with the court, and she knows the patterns. If that man takes her, he will have her throat cut.” (The fate of many thousands, and the guarantee of the future, with the Art not in the hands of ignorant peasants, but women of intelligence and good will—balanced against one lie. But how to say it?) He said; “Has she shown so much concern for you?” Lalette twisted under his arm. “If she had, would I know it? You hold me a prisoner—you and your Dr. Remigorius, who does not deliver letters, and your Mme. Kaja, who will sell me, and your Mathurin, who wants to cut my mother’s throat. I never knew what dirt was till I knew you.” (Rodvard felt the blood beat at his temples; he wanted to strike her, to make a fiery retort.) He released her, stood up, and began to walk the floor. (No: no. A quarrel so entered could never be composed. Look beyond it, Rodvard; see how the world would be without her. Somewhere perhaps there was another who would have more response for an interior fidelity deeper than any single act; would not drive him from her side with bitter words when . . . He thought of Maritzl of Stojenrosek; and by this route came again to the high purpose. No. It was mere selfishness to let his own thought, his own problem, stand first; the very thing he had wished to bring her to see. Keep the peace.) A small sound made him turn. She was just settling into place among the covers, and her face turned toward him. “Oh, Rodvard,” she said, “help me. I can’t do it. The Episcopal.” Nothing more was said on the subject, but that night they slept in each other’s arms. 26 THE COURT OF SPECIAL CASES