Then he bitted himself to wait; and he did not wait long. Presently he
heard a voice say, "I must see him," and the door opened wide, and Louise
Mazarine stepped into the room. Her face was pale and distraught; her
blue eyes, with their long, melancholy lashes, stared at him in appealing
apprehension. Her lips were almost white; her hands trembled out towards
him.

"I've come--I've come!" she said. It had the finality of the last
chapter of a book.

The Young Doctor closed the door, ignoring for the instant the hands held
out to him. After all, he was a very sane Young Doctor, and he had the
faculty of keeping his head, and his heart, and his own counsel. Also he
knew there was an inquisitive old servant in the hallway.

When the door was closed, he turned round on Louise slowly, and then he
held out his hands to her, for she was shrinking away, as though he had
repulsed her. He pressed her trembling hands in the way that only
faithful friendship shows, and said:

"Yes, I know you've come, but tell me what you've come for."

"I couldn't bear it any longer," she said brokenly. "I'm not made of
steel or stone. It's been terrible. He doesn't speak to me except to
order me to do this or that. I haven't done anything wrong, and I won't
be treated so. I won't! When he made me kneel down by him in the trail
and tried to make me pray to be forgiven of my sins, I couldn't stand it.
I don't know what my sins are, and I won't be converted if I don't want
to. I'm not a slave. I'm of age. I'm twenty."