You are the worst of hypocrites, who would veil your hate under a priest's robe."
"Have you no pity, Irene? When did I say that I hated you? Moreover, if I had hated you, should I" and I ceased.
"I do not know what you would or would not have done," she answered coldly. "I think that Constantine is right, and that you must be what is called a saint; and, if so, saints are best in heaven, especially when they know too much on earth. Give me that sword of yours."
I drew the sword, saluted with it, and gave it to her.
"It is a heavy weapon," she said. "Whence came it?"
"From the same grave as the necklace, Augusta."
"Ah! the necklace that your dream-woman wore. Well, go to seek her in the land of dreams," and she lifted the sword.
"Your pardon, Augusta, but you are about to strike with the blunt edge, which may wound but will not kill."
She laughed a little, very nervously, and, turning the sword round in her hand, said:
"Truly, you are the strangest of men! Ah! I thank you, now I have it right. Do you understand, Olaf, I mean, Sir Saint, what sort of a story I must tell of you after I have struck? Do you understand that not only are you about to die, but that infamy will be poured upon your name and that your body will be dragged through the streets and thrown to the dogs with the city offal? Answer, I say, answer!"
"I understand that you must cause these things to be done for your own sake, Augusta, and I do not com-
