"Nor ever should I have thought so. But fate is strange. The Holy Father is imprisoned in the Lateran. To him I wended my way. But the only service I did him was to prevent his escape--unwittingly. I visited the sanctuaries. But though prayers hovered on my lips, repentance was not in my heart. And then it came to pass. And I feel like one borne in a bark that has neither sail nor rudder. And if, instead of being far-floated to these Roman shores, I am headed for a port where all is security and peace, can I prevent it? I am borne on! I close my eyes and try to think that Fate has intended it for my good." "For your good!" she said bitterly. "For yours no less, perchance." "How so, dearest? What good can come to me from your soul's security? To me, who believe our love is rightful?" "And yet you sent me from you--into darkness--loneliness--despair?" She stroked his hair. "It was fear as well as conscience that prompted. You once said that all things are right, that may not be escaped. You said, that if God was at the back of all things, all things were pure--" "I know I said it! But, what I meant, I know not now. I saw things strangely then." "There were days when I, too, lost my vision," she said softly, "when I said to myself: there is truth and truth--the higher and the lower. It was the higher, if you like to call it so, Tristan, that prompted the deed. Since then I have come down to earth, and the lower truth, more fit for beings of clay, proclaims my presence here--" "What will you do?" he queried anxiously. "I know not--I know not! I came here to be with you--without ever a thought of meeting him again whom I have wronged--if wronged indeed I have. He has vowed to kill you! Oh, to what a pass have I brought you--my love--my love! Let us fly from Rome! Let us leave this city. He will never know. And as for me--he but loves me because I am fair to look upon, and lovable in the eyes of another. What I have suffered in the silence, in the darkness, you will never know. You shall take me with you--anywhere will I go--so we shake the dust of this city from our feet." She leapt at him again and flung her arms about his neck, her face upturned. He had neither will nor power to release himself. He scarcely had the strength to speak the words which he knew would stab her to the heart. Even ere he spoke she fell away from him as if she had read his mind. "So you persuaded him of your repentance," she cried. "You are friends over the body of your murdered love! And I--who gave all--am left alone,--the foe of either. It was nobly done." He stared at her as if he thought she had gone mad. "Listen, Hellayne," he urged, taking her hands in his, in the endeavor to soothe her. "What spirit of evil has whispered this madness into your ears? Even just now you said, he has sworn to kill me. How could there be reconciliation between Roger de Laval and myself--who love his wife?"