fingers, Beltane rose up, and that which he had hidden deep within his
heart brake from him.

"Helen!" he whispered, "O Helen, thou art so wondrous fair and belike
of high estate, but as for me, I am but what I am. Behold me" he cried,
stretching wide his arms, "I am but Beltane the Smith; who is there to
love such as I? See, my hands be hard and rough, and would but bruise
where they should caress, these arms be unfitted for soft
embracements. O lady, who is there to love Beltane the Smith?"

Now the Duchess Helen laughed within herself for very triumph, yet her
bosom thrilled and hurried with her breathing, her cheek grew red and
her eyes bright and tender, wherefore she stooped low to cull a flower
ere she answered.

"Beltane," she sighed, "Beltane, women are not as thy flowers, that
embraces, even such as thine, would crush them."

But Beltane stooped his head that he might not behold the lure and
beauty of her, and clenched his hands hard and fierce and thereafter
spake:

"Thou art so wondrous fair," said he again, "and belike of noble
birth, but--as for me, I am a smith!"

Awhile she stood, turning the flower in gentle fingers yet looking upon
him in his might and goodly youth, beholding his averted face with its
strong, sweet mouth and masterful chin, its curved nostrils and the
dreaming passion of his eyes, and when she spake her voice was soft
and very sweet.