Thereafter Duke Beltane rode to the war with a glad heart, and fell
upon his enemies and scattered them, and pursued them far and smote
them even to their own gates. But in the hour of his triumph he fell,
by treachery, into the hands of his cruelest enemy, how it mattereth
not, and for a space was lost to sight and memory. But as for Johan,
the Duke's brother, he lay long sick of his wounds, so came the Duchess
and ministered to him; and she was fair, and passing fair, and he was
young. And when his strength was come again, each day was Johan minded
to ride forth and seek the Duke his brother--but he was young, and she
passing fair, wherefore he tarried still, bound by the lure of her
beauty. And, upon a soft and stilly eve as they walked together in the
garden, she wooed Johan with tender look and word, and wreathed her
white arms about him and gave to his her mouth. And, in that moment
came one, fierce and wild of aspect, in dinted casque and rusty mail
who stood and watched--ah God!"

Here, for a while, the hermit Ambrose stayed his tale, and Beltane saw
his brow was moist and that his thin hands clenched and wrung each
other.

"So thus, my son, came Duke Beltane home again, he and his esquire Sir
Benedict of Bourne alone of all his company, each alike worn with
hardship and spent with wounds. But now was the Duke stricken of a
greater pain and leaned him upon the shoulder of his esquire, faint and
sick of soul, and knew an anguish deeper than any flesh may know. Then,
of a sudden, madness came upon him and, breaking from the mailed arms
that held him, he came hot-foot to the courtyard and to the hall
beyond, hurling aside all such as sought to stay him and so reached at
last my lady's bower, his mailed feet ringing upon the Atones. And,
looking up, the Duchess saw and cried aloud and stood, thereafter, pale