lightly; for every word he sowed, he would reap a harvest of some kind.

He came close to her, and looked as though he would read her through and
through. "Can you ask that question?" he said most seriously. "If you
ask it because from your soul you wish to know, good! But if you ask it
as a woman who would read a man's heart, and then--"

"Oh, hush!--hush!" she whispered. Her face became pale, and her eyes
had a painful brightness. "You must not answer. I had no right to ask.
Oh, monsieur!" she added, "I would have you always for my friend if I
could, though you are the enemy of my country and of the man--I am to
marry."

"I am for my king," he replied; "and I am enemy of him who stands between
you and me. For see: from the hour that I met you I knew that some day,
even as now, I should tell you that--I love you--indeed, Jessica, with
all my heart."

"Oh, have pity!" she pleaded. "I cannot listen--I cannot."

"You shall listen, for you have remembered me and have understood.
Voila!" he added, hastily catching her silver buckle from his bosom.
"This that you sent me, look where I have kept it--on my heart!"

She drew back from him, her face in her hands. Then suddenly she put
them out as though to prevent him coming near her, and said:

"Oh, no--no! You will spare me; I am an affianced wife." An appealing
smile shone through her tears. "Oh, will you not go?" she begged. "Or,
will you not stay and forget what you have said? We are little more than