Helga's look of resentment changed to one of pleased surprise, and she
shook his hands heartily. "Do you truly, comrade? I am glad, for I like
you very much indeed,--as much as I like Sigurd."

"Then swear by your knife that you will not let him marry you to
anyone."

She pulled her hands away, a little impatiently. "Why do you ask that
which is useless?"

"But you have just said that you liked me."

"I do; but what does that matter, since I cannot marry you?"

So light had the yoke of servitude grown on Alwin's shoulders that he
had almost forgotten its existence. He opened his lips to ask, "Why?"
Then it came back to him that he was a slave, a worthless, helpless dog
of a slave. He closed his lips again and walked on without speaking,
staring ahead of him with fierce, despairing eyes.




CHAPTER XVIII

THE WITCH'S DEN


Moderately wise