Torrents of remorse flooded over the lovers' hearts.

Isolde thought of the unhappy Tancred, hammered out as flat as a
picture-card and hopelessly spoilt; of Conrad the Cocoanut head first
in the mud, and Sickfried the Susceptible coiled up with agonies of
sulphuric acid.

Guido thought of the dead Saracens and the slaughtered Turks.

And all for nothing!

The guerdon of their love had proved vain. Each of them was not what
the other had thought. So it is ever with the loves of this world,
and herein is the medieval allegory of this tale.

The hearts of the two lovers broke together.

They expired.

Meantime Carlo the Corkscrew and Beowulf the Bradawl, and their forty
followers, were hustling down the spirals as fast as they could
crawl, hind end uppermost.



_IV. -- Gertrude the Governess: or, Simple Seventeen_


_Synopsis of Previous Chapters:_