"Because I love you better than anything or anybody else in all the world," she repeated. "So far, so good. When, Beloved Lady?" At that she hesitated for a space and fell silent. He pressed her head closer, and bending his tall head laid his cheek to hers. "When?" "Presently. But before that, dearest and best of men, there are so many, many things I wish to tell you, so many things I wish you to know! I wish you to know me. Everything about me! For once upon a time there was a sad, neglected child, a piteous child I must make you acquainted with. There was an ignorant and undisciplined young girl--" "You?" She nodded sorrowfully. His clasp tightened. He slipped a hand beneath her chin, tilted her face upward, and kissed her eyes that had suddenly filled with tears, her lips that quivered. "Beloved Lady, I understand: for there was once upon a time a sad, neglected child, an ugly little lad, barefooted and poverty-stricken after his mother's death. There was an ignorant and undisciplined boy--" "You?" Her arms went around him protectingly, in a mothering and tender clasp. "Who else? And being very ignorant indeed, he sold himself into bondage for a mess of pottage, and was thrall for weary years. He got exactly what he paid for. And life was ashes upon his head and wormwood in his mouth, and his heart was empty in his breast, because he snatched at shadows. And then one day the door of his prison was opened by the keeper, and he said, 'Now I am free!' But it was his fate to go down into hell for a season. There were times when he asked himself, 'Why don't I blow out my brains and escape?' Nothing but the simple faith and heroism of common men about him saved him from despair. One day a blinded soldier said, 'See for us!' So he began to see,--but still without hope, still without happiness, until he came here and found--_you_." His voice was melted gold. She had listened breathlessly. And after a pause she asked: "Who was--the keeper of his prison?" "The woman to whom he had been married." Her arms fell from him. She tried to draw herself away, but he held her all the closer. "Do not think unkindly of her. I don't think she really knew she was an ogress! After all, she did unlock the door and say, 'Go!' And--well, here I am, darling woman. And I'm going to marry _you_!" "Did you _never_ love her?" "Never. I was so frightfully unhappy that the best I could do was not to hate her. I'm afraid she hated me--poor ogress! Well! That's all over and done with. Like an evil dream. I'm here, and _you_'re going to marry me." Very gently he drew her arms around him again. "Ah, hold fast to me! Hold fast! I have waited for you so long, I need you so much!" he breathed. "I don't seem able to help myself!" she sighed. And she asked seriously: "What do the people who love you most call you when they speak to you?" The brown and bearded faces of comrades rose before him, their voices sounded in his ears. "Pierre."