I removed the flowers and held them in my hand. They were soft, delicate, and pure as the girl’s heart--and I--I had cast aside a priceless gem that lay at my feet, to wander after an elf-light that led me into the deeps. I put the flowers by carefully. They are with me to this day. Sometimes I open my cabinet and look at them, and as I gaze the withered blossoms seem to renew their freshness, and their sweet scent to come back to them. And then I shut them up again reverently, as things too sacred for the light. Be this as it may, as I put aside the sad little gift there flickered once more within me a faint hope. A way was pointed to me to seek the death that I craved. There was something of honor in it. Yes, I would die by Marcilly’s side. I could not save him; but I would try to, and the clean sword that I wore would be used for the first and the last time by me in a manner worthy of its brightness. Strength came to me with the thought; and feverish and impatient, I watched the long hours steal past, until the time came for me to go. I heard the Lauds, and although it was still black darkness I could stay no longer. Stooping down I shook Majolais by the shoulder. He awoke with a gasp and a start, but recovered himself at once, and, as I resumed my cloak, he seized and kissed my hand, his hot lips burning like a seal. I told him I was going, and that he should, when it was light, seek the Princess of Condé, there he would find rest and safety; but Majolais clung to my cloak, and somehow made me understand that he would not be parted from me. So we two went out of our refuge. Long and slow was our passage. We must have wandered in the darkness like derelict ships, but at last we reached the Martroi. The watch-fires were burning, and here and there was the gleam of a torch, or the flash of a light; for early as was the hour, dark as it was, there were those who had already assembled to see a fellow-creature die. Aided by the darkness, we approached near the scaffold. Close to it were a series of wooden galleries, and, drawing my sword, I slipped behind one of these, and waited for the time to come--it would not be long now--when I should die sword in hand, and whiten, if only a little, my stained shield. Majolais was beside me when I took my place. I saw his yellow eyes watching the sword, and, as if he understood, he drew his dagger and felt the point of it with his finger. But I had no intention of sacrificing him. I whispered to him to be gone. I told him in low, quick words what I meant to do; but he remained immovable. Finally, I threatened him angrily, but to no purpose, and I was about to resign myself to fate, when a sudden idea seemed to possess him. He chuckled like a night-jar, and, drawing himself up the hoardings, he crept along them on all fours with cat-like agility, and vanished in the darkness. I was glad he was gone. He knew where to go for safety, and this business of mine had to be done alone.