Beatrix lifted one frightened glance to the young man’s face and saw standing on his brow great drops of sweat. His right hand grasped the upper portion of the velvet cross, partly detached from his doublet, and he looked loweringly upon her. Swiftly she smote the door twice with her hand and instantly the portal opened as far as the chain would allow it. Count Herbert noticed that in the interval, three other chains had been added to the one that formerly had baffled his sword. The girl, like a woodland pigeon, darted underneath the lower chain, and although the prisoner took a rapid step forward, the door, with greater speed, closed and was bolted. The Count had requested the girl to be gone, and surely should have been contented now that she had withdrawn herself, yet so shifty a thing is human nature, that no sooner were his commands obeyed than he began to bewail their fulfilment. He accused himself of being a double fool, first, for not holding her when he had her; and secondly, having allowed her to depart, he bemoaned the fact that he had acted rudely to her, and thus had probably made her return impossible. His prison seemed inexpressibly dreary lacking her presence. Once or twice he called out her name, but the echoing empty walls alone replied. For the first time in his life the heavy sleep of the camp deserted him, and in his dreams he pursued a phantom woman, who continually dissolved in his grasp, now laughingly, now in anger. The morning found him deeply depressed, and he thought the unaccustomed restraints of a prison were having their effect on the spirits of a man heretofore free. He sat silently on the bench watching the door. At last, to his great joy, he heard the rattle of bolts being withdrawn. The door opened slowly to the small extent allowed by the chains, but no one entered and the Count sat still, concealed from the view of whoever stood without. “My Lord Count,” came the sweet tones of the girl and the listener with joy, fancied he detected in it a suggestion of apprehension, doubtless caused by the fact that the room seemed deserted. “My Lord Count, I have brought your breakfast; will you not come and receive it?” Herbert rose slowly and came within range of his jailer’s vision. The girl stood in the hall, a repast that would have tempted an epicure arrayed on the wooden trencher she held in her hands. “Beatrix, come in,” he said. “I fear that in stooping, some portion of this burden may fall. Will you not take the trencher?” The young man stepped to the opening and, taking the tray from her, placed it on the bench as he had previously done; then repeated his invitation. “You were displeased with my company before, my Lord, and I am loath again to offend.” “Beatrix, I beg you to enter. I have something to say to you.” “Stout chains bar not words, my Lord. Speak and I shall listen.” “What I have to say, is for your ear alone.”