"Yuki, Yuki!" came a voice as though from a mangled soul. "Did you not begin to feel it? I love you! From that first instant in Washington--I have loved you more dearly than I ought. The Gods punish me for my infatuation!" Yuki's cheeks grew faintly tinged. "Once, nay, twice, Lord, my heart bespoke it, but I dared not listen. If a star had slid through the night to my hand, I would sooner believe that I dreamed, awake, than that the heavens had lost a star." "A soul--a face--a heart like thine, Yuki--to be befouled by a Frenchman's love!" he cried in agony. "Dear Lord," whispered the girl, "perhaps by suffering greatly in this life--perhaps in my completeness of expiation--I shall, in the next life, be near thee!" Hagané could only groan. The black spider busied itself about them. A strange stillness fell on Yuki. She put up a hand to her husband's shoulder, drawing him closer. "My soul is like a quiet pool, my husband. Gaze in, softly, and see your own face there. Nay, break not the shining by thy tears. You must help me to suffer greatly. Let no interference come. This last treachery to the weak boy who has loved me is part of the pain. He will forgive me and forget. He will even be happier than for me to live on as your wife--your loved wife! That is too heavenly a thing for one so frail as I. Let me die, Lord, as you and I, though without speech, have agreed upon. At last I shall serve. Will you promise to befriend me to that hour, my husband?" "To that hour and beyond!" groaned Hagané. A moment after, he said, "Do you realize, my Yuki, what may be the power of a soul freed like yours,--shot suddenly from the bowstring of a fixed purpose? It is a thunderbolt of the Gods! Not only in your body's death, but through your free soul, after, shall you aid Nippon!" The wonder in her wide gaze grew. A dawn, it spread circling to outer rims of darkness. Currents of unseen force seemed to whirl in the air about them. "Soul of my Yuki, I shall summon you to fields of death. Stand near me in perplexing hours, cleave to him who is to be thy mate in a nobler rebirth! Breathe your power through me in moments of despair, lift up your voice when a thousand guns roar death, when ghosts spring up like flames, and the commander sobs to hear the cry of 'Victory!' So shall you be worthy!" "Lord! Lord! Already art thou a God, and I thy chosen comrade! Wield my freed spirit to our country's need! At last I shall be strong. Into thy hands--Lord--" Things of the flesh flared up and blew back forever, like scraps of burnt moor-grass. The white flint of her soul had struck from him its spark of immortality! CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT