He strove to kiss her, but Beatrix held her head far from him, her open palm pressed against the red cross that glowed upon his breast, keeping him thus at arm’s length. “Count von Schonburg, what is the treachery of any other compared with yours? You came heedlessly into this castle, suspecting as you say, no danger: I came within this room to do you service, knowing my peril, but trusting to the honour of a true soldier of the Cross, and this is my reward! First tear from your breast this sacred emblem, valorous assaulter of a defenceless woman, for it should be worn by none but stainless gentlemen.” Count Herbert’s arms relaxed, and his hands dropped listless to his sides. “By my sword,” he said, “they taught you invective in the forest. You are free. Go.” The girl made no motion to profit by her newly acquired liberty, but stood there, glancing sideways at him who scowled menacingly at her. When at last she spoke, she said, shyly: “I have not yet fulfilled my mission.” “Fulfil it then in the fiend’s name and begone.” “Will you consent to see my Lady the Countess?” “No.” “Will you promise not to make war upon her if you are released?” “No.” “If, in spite of your boorishness, she sets you free, what will you do?” “I will rally my followers to my banner, scatter the forces that surround my castle, then demolish this prison trap.” “Am I in truth to carry such answers to the Countess?” “You are to do as best pleases you, now and forever.” “I am but a simple serving-maid, and know nothing of high questions of state, yet it seems to me such replies do not oil prison bolts, and believe me, I grieve to see you thus detained.” “I am grateful for your consideration. Is your embassy completed?” The girl, her eyes on the stone floor, paused long before replying, then said, giving no warning of a change of subject, and still not raising her eyes to his: “You took me by surprise; I am not used to being handled roughly; you forget the distance between your station and mine, you being a noble of the Empire, and I but a serving-maid; if, in my anger, I spoke in a manner unbecoming one so humble, I do beseech that your Lordship pardon me.” “Now by the Cross to which you appealed, how long will you stand chattering there? Think you I am made of adamant, and not of flesh and blood? My garments are tattered at best, I would in woman’s company they were finer, and this cross of Genoa red hangs to my tunic, but by a few frail threads. Beware, therefore, that I tear it not from my breast as you advised, and cast it from me.”