As she stood facing the main doorway, a panel opened quietly behind her and directly back of where the thrones had stood in past times. From the black mouth of the aperture stepped Peter of Colfax. Silently, he closed the panel after him, and with soundless steps, advanced toward the girl. At the edge of the raised dais he halted, rattling his sword to attract her attention. If his aim had been to unnerve her by the suddenness and mystery of his appearance, he failed signally, for she did not even turn her head as she said: “What explanation hast thou to make, Sir Peter, for this base treachery against thy neighbor’s daughter and thy sovereign’s niece?” “When fond hearts be thwarted by a cruel parent,” replied the pot-bellied old beast in a soft and fawning tone, “love must still find its way; and so thy gallant swain hath dared the wrath of thy great father and majestic uncle, and lays his heart at thy feet, O beauteous Bertrade, knowing full well that thine hath been hungering after it since we did first avow our love to thy hard-hearted sire. See, I kneel to thee, my dove!” And with cracking joints the fat baron plumped down upon his marrow bones. Bertrade turned and as she saw him her haughty countenance relaxed into a sneering smile. “Thou art a fool, Sir Peter,” she said, “and, at that, the worst species of fool—an ancient fool. It is useless to pursue thy cause, for I will have none of thee. Let me hence, if thou be a gentleman, and no word of what hath transpired shall ever pass my lips. But let me go, ’tis all I ask, and it is useless to detain me for I cannot give what you would have. I do not love you, nor ever can I.” Her first words had caused the red of humiliation to mottle his already ruby visage to a semblance of purple, and now, as he attempted to rise with dignity, he was still further covered with confusion by the fact that his huge stomach made it necessary for him to go upon all fours before he could rise, so that he got up much after the manner of a cow, raising his stern high in air in a most ludicrous fashion. As he gained his feet he saw the girl turn her head from him to hide the laughter on her face. “Return to thy chamber,” he thundered. “I will give thee until tomorrow to decide whether thou wilt accept Peter of Colfax as thy husband, or take another position in his household which will bar thee for all time from the society of thy kind.” The girl turned toward him, the laugh still playing on her lips. “I will be wife to no buffoon; to no clumsy old clown; to no debauched, degraded parody of a man. And as for thy other rash threat, thou hast not the guts to put thy wishes into deeds, thou craven coward, for well ye know that Simon de Montfort would cut out thy foul heart with his own hand if he ever suspected thou wert guilty of speaking of such to me, his daughter.” And Bertrade de Montfort swept from the great hall, and mounted to her tower chamber in the ancient Saxon stronghold of Colfax.