'You are a dead man. Do you know?' He stood and fronted her boldly now, recovering faith, most needful for the encounter. By what he could see of her face it was cruel and cold as death itself, and the gleam of her eyes was like the keen, sharp glitter of a treacherous sea. For he had not seen, when his eyes had been on the ground, on her feet, a flash of wonder and pity, for one instant softening. Wonder at his large-limbed youth remained covert; but his defiant eyes, his gesture, had routed pity. 'Your bones shall lie apart,' she cried. 'I will choose a fair nook for you in the great sea sepulchre. All the bones of other wretches who have perished among these rocks lie piled in a common heap--piled high! But you alone of many a score having set foot alive in this my garden--by strength, or courage, or cunning--no matter how, your momentary success shall receive some recognition. Maybe, if I remember, when your skull is white and bare, I will crown it with sea-blossom now and then; and whenever I pass by, cast you a tribute of coral, till the hollows of your ribs are overfilled.' He felt that she had the power to make good her taunting words. 'I have faced death before now,' he answered simply. She was angered, and hated him, because he stood upright before her, with eyes that did not waver, and words like proud disdain. She longed to abase him before she compassed his death. 'How shall I take the forfeit? Shall I bid sea-serpents crawl from the ooze of the deep to crush out your life in scaly folds; or set a watch of sharks about my garden to tear your live limbs piecemeal when you venture hence; or make the waves my agents to toss you and wrestle with you, to batter out all comeliness of form, and break your bones as reeds beneath the gale?' Look, tone, gesture, drove home the full horror of her words. Brave as the boy was, the blood forsook his cheek, a momentary tremor passed, and involuntarily his eyes turned to the eastern sky, whereunder lay a well-known shore, and his home, and the grey-haired couple, who, bereft of him, would go to the grave sorrowing. They faced each other in silence, as two wrestlers mark each the other's strength. A strangely unequal pair! The tall lad, long-limbed, muscular, broad-chested, the weight of whose finger was stronger, than her full-handed might, knew he was powerless, knew at least that no physical strength could prevail against the young witch; she, slender, smooth-limbed, threatened him with torture and death, strong in witch-might and witch-malice. Keen-eyed, she had seen that he quailed, and softening, was half minded to forgive his trespass. 'Kneel again and pray for your life; perchance I yet may grant it you.' Should his christened body grovel to her, a witch? A ring of scorn was in his answer. 'Not to you,' he said; 'I kneel and pray only when I love and fear.' She hated him again: he meant that her he hated and despised.