"'It is nay,'" she repeated after him, and her eyes mocked him.
"May a poor Princess ask the Signor's reason?"
Hilarius pointed past her to the fallen lilies.
"It lies there."
For an instant the hot colour splashed the angry whiteness of her cheek; then, pale to the lips, she turned on him; and she stammered in her wrath:-"And dost thou - dost thou dare, say this to my face - to me, who stooped to ask when I had but to command? I, with my unmatched beauty; I, who hold the hearts of men in thrall to the lifting of my eyes; I, to whom men kneel as to their God! Art thou mad, mad, that thou canst set aside such a behest as mine? 'Tis small wonder men say thy doublet hides a monkish dress; of a truth the tale they brought savoured of little else. Hear me, thou prating, milk-faced Modesty, I choose that thou shalt limn this face of mine: say me nay, and I will teach thee a lesson hard of forgetting; for I will silence thy preaching for aye, and lend my serving-men to whip thee through the streets. Men, said I? Nay, thou art too much a cur to make fit sport for men: rather my maids shall wield the rod and lace thy shoulders."
She flung herself on a low couch by the open window, where the peacocks on the terrace strutted in the sun; and Hilarius waited, dumb as the dog to which she had likened him, for he had no word.
There was silence a while.
Then the Princess spoke, and her voice cut Hilarius like the sting of a lash:-"Bring me yon flowers."
He obeyed.
"Set them at my feet."
He bent his knee and did so, wondering.
A moment, and she trod them under; their dying fragrance filled the air, as their living breath had flooded the senses of the blind- eyed lad at the Monastery gate.
One by one she set her heel upon the blossoms, and the marble was yellow with stolen gold.
Hilarius held his breath; it was as if she did to death some living thing, and yet he dared not bid her stay her insolent feet.
It was done; and she looked at him under questioning brows.
"So much for thy lilies! Dost still think that it will soil thy brush to limn such an one as I? I, whom men call the Queen of Love - but thy lips, say they, burnt with another name! Bethink thee, faint heart, there is not a man in all this city but would count death a small price to pay for my favours; and I ask of thee one little service, and thou shalt name thine own reward. Surely 'tis churlish to gainsay!"
Her voice was suddenly sweet.
Stooping, she gathered to her the destruction she had wrought, fingering the fallen petals tenderly, with a little sigh. She glanced up at Hilarius through her lashes' net. "Maybe I was over hasty," she said softly, and a sob swelled the round of her wonderful throat - "and yet how couldst thou call me wanton?" Her mouth drooped a little - she was very fair.
"Art thou still minded to set these poor pale flowers against the roses in love's garden? For I love thee," she added, and then suddenly she was still.
Hilarius looked from the dead flowers to the woman in her over- mastering beauty, and all at once the passion that lies hid in the heart of every man leapt to his lips. He desired this woman as he had never before desired aught in all the world, and he knew, to his shame, that she was his for the asking. The blood thudded and rang in his veins; he feasted his eyes on the curve of her neck and the radiance of her sun-swept hair. He stretched out his hands, but ere he could speak she raised a white, terrified face, and glanced over her shoulder.
"Who touched me?" she gasped, her voice shrill with fear, "who touched me?" And she sprang to her feet.
There was no one: the two shared a common pallor as they stared into each other's eyes across the dying lilies. Hilarius shrank back and covered his face with his hands. Clear and distinct he heard the Prior's voice: "A light woman - a light woman."
Then the Princess said hoarsely, "Go, go;" and without word or look Hilarius went.
The Prior rose from his knees comforted. He had wrestled with the devil for his son's soul, and knew that he had prevailed.
