Rodvard rolled out to make the best bow he could with half his laces still undone, and saw a small woman of careworn aspect and maybe thirty-five years, who had just set a heavy basket on the floor. “Madame Domijaiek, I am your humble servant, Rodvard Bergelin. Your son took my—sweetheart and myself in last night to save us from distress.” “Mother, I listened to the voice of the heart, as you said,” piped the boy. “They are good. Besides a provost came and broke Baron Mondaifer.” “It is well done, son.” She placed a hand protectingly on his shoulder. “Ser, I am glad that Laduis could help you. Have you breakfasted?” “I left some of my bread and cheese for them, mother. The lady is a witch.” Rodvard saw the woman’s face alter, and her eyes, which had held only a mild questioning, were taken away from him. She fumbled in her belt-purse. “Laduis,” she said, “will you get another piotr-weight of millet from the shop at the market-square?” Lalette came from the bedroom, looking only by the half as delightful as Rodvard’s night memory painted her; curtsied and said straightly; “Madame, I am in your benevolence and honor, so now no concealments. I am Lalette Asterhax, the veritable witch on whom the provosts have set a price, and if my being here will trouble you, I’ll leave on the instant. But I swear I have done nothing for which I might truly fear from a just God.” Doubt melted from Dame Domijaiek’s face; she reached out both hands to take the two of the girl’s, saying; “My dear, I could not let you go from here into danger, for that would not be love. But as for your witchery, we are also told that if one live in the true world, the outer appearance of evil on all of us, shall have no force. Each must find his own way to love. Now you shall tell me the whole story, while I set forth something to eat.” The girl gave it all fairly, hiding nothing, as they munched on bread and cheese and pickled onions. When she had finished on the note of Mme. Kaja’s treachery, Dame Domijaiek said; “Ill done, but the poor woman’s fault is partly your own.” Said Rodvard, surprised; “How can that be, Madame?” “It takes more than one to make a murder. If you had been wholly ruled by the God of love, the good will you bore her could not but have been reflected back toward you. Was there not something, perhaps seeming of slight importance, on which you felt almost in fury with her?” Rodvard flushed (recalling the moment when Mme. Kaja had burst in to find them on the bed), but Lalette said simply; “Yes, and on a question that most sharply brings angers; to wit, money. Speaking of which, have you the spadas, Rodvard?” “Why, no. I reached for them where they were on the table as we went through the window, but they were not there, and I thought you had taken them.” Lalette’s nostrils moved. “A victory for Mme. Kaja. She has left us penniless.” “Believe me, an evident result of the fact that you quarrelled with her on pennies,” said Dame Domijaiek.