its conclusion. My surviving opponents I consider to have been
deplorable fools when they surrendered, for people die less painfully
in battle. There was one fellow, a Franciscan monk, who hung six hours
upon a palm tree, always turning his head from one side to the other.
It was amusing."

She answered nothing.

"And I was wondering always how I would feel were you nailed in his
place. It was curious I should have thought of you.... But your white
flesh is like the petals of a flower. I suppose it is as readily
destructible. I think you would not long endure."

"I pray God hourly that I may not!" said tense Melicent.

He was pleased to have wrung one cry of anguish from this lovely
effigy. He motioned her to him and laid one hand upon her naked breast.
He gave a gesture of distaste.

Demetrios said:

"No, you are not afraid. However, you are very beautiful. I thought
that you would please me more when your gold hair had grown a trifle
longer. There is nothing in the world so beautiful as golden hair. Its
beauty weathers even the commendation of poets."

No power of motion seemed to be in this white girl, but certainly you
could detect no fear. Her clinging robe shone like an opal in the
lamplight, her body, only partly veiled, was enticing, and her visage
was very lovely. Her wide-open eyes implored you, but only as those of