her hand in his; she, and they all, were too preoccupied with excitement
and joy to see the look of deep pain in his eyes.

He held his wife's hand, until the procession started, and neither of
them spoke a word. Zara, still exalted with the spirit of the night,
felt only a wild excitement. She was glad he could see her beauty and
her hair, and she raised her head and shook it back, as they started,
with a provoking air.

But Tristram never spoke; and by the time they had reached the
banqueting-hall, some of her exaltation died down, and she felt a chill.

Her hair was so very long and thick that she had to push it aside, to
sit down, and in doing so a mesh flew out and touched his face; and the
Crow, who was watching the whole drama intently, noticed that he
shivered and, if possible, grew more pale. So he turned to his own
servant, behind his chair, who with some of the other valets, was
helping to wait, and whispered to him, "Go and see that Lord Tancred is
handed brandy, at once, before the soup."

And so the feast began.

On Zara's other hand sat the Duke, and on Tristram's, Brangaine--for so
she and Ethelrida had arranged for their later plan; and after the
brandy, which Tristram dimly wondered why he should have been handed, he
pulled himself together, and tried to talk; and Zara busied herself with
the Duke. She quite came out of her usual silence, and laughed, and
looked so divinely attractive that the splendid old gentleman felt it
all going to his head; and his thoughts wondered bluntly, how soon, if
he were his nephew, he would take her away after dinner and make love to