"The Great Slave noted that the bark of the sapling had not been
stripped, and more than once he measured, with his eye, the space between
the stake and the shores of the Lake: he did this most private, so that
no one saw but the girl.

"At last the time was come. The Lake was all rose and gold out there in
the west, and the water so still so still. The cool, moist scent of the
leaves and grass came out from the woods and up from the plain, and the
world was so full of content that a man's heart could cry out, even as
now, while we look--eh, is it not good? See the deer drinking on the
other shore there!" Suddenly Pierre became silent, as if he had forgotten
the story altogether. Tybalt was impatient, but he did not speak. He took
a twig, and in the sand he wrote "Charles Rex." Pierre glanced down and
saw it.

"There was beating of the little drums," he continued, "and the crying of
the king's speaker; and soon all was ready, and the people gathered at a
distance, and the king and the queen, and the chief men nearer; and the
girl was brought forth.

"As they led her past the Great Slave, she looked into his eyes, and
afterwards her heart was glad, for she knew that at the last he would be
near her, and that his hand should light the fires. Two men tied her to
the stake. Then the king's man cried out again, telling of her crime, and
calling for her death. The Great Slave was brought near. No one knew that
the palms of his hands had been rubbed in the sand for a purpose. When he
was brought beside the stake, a torch was given him by his guards. He
looked at the girl, and she smiled at him, and said: 'Good-bye. Forgive.
I die not afraid, and happy.'