Katherine went to his side, and placing her fingers upon his arm, said,—­

“Thou wilt escort me to the King?”

“Most gladly, and where else in life thou shalt choose to go.”

“’Tis the present that indicates the future,—­wilt come at once without ceremony?”

“Nay, nay, I protest.  I must have thee as wife, first, Mistress Penwick!”

Constantine leant toward them from the table and looked with purpose, a frown emphasizing his shrewd glance,—­

“We have not time for further controversy, and if the maid will say the word, the ceremony will be performed now.”  The Abbe knew the maid would give in to circumstances sooner than the determined Count, and thus hastened her.  All eyes were upon the two, and Katherine hearing in the priest’s voice a tone of insistence, stood for a moment motionless and evidently debating her course.

As she opened her lips, there was a sudden sound of horses’ feet.

In a moment a thundering knock upon the door’s panelling demanded admittance.

“Who seeks an opening so roughly?” thundered La Fosse.

“Cedric of Crandlemar!”

“The devil!” cried Cantemir, as he fell back in consternation and fear.  Indeed he would rather meet the King of devils than this hot-headed Cedric.  Katherine was not at a loss to read Count Adrian’s countenance, and straightway bade them open the door.  La Fosse spoke as his hand rested on the locker,—­

“Art alone, my lord?”

“Aye, quite alone!” came in a voice so shaken Katherine fell to trembling in very fear.  Cedric threw wide the door and stood within, facing them all.  His face gleamed like marble, so colourless and still it seemed.  His body swayed by love and anger, knew not which way to turn, but appeared to sway from side to side.  His breath came in quick, sharp pants.  His hair, damp as if from fine rain, was dishevelled.  His dark eyes shot forth sparks of angry fire that burnt all who fell beneath their glance.

“Who brought hither the maid?  Did yonder pandering fool?  Aye, ’twas thou.  I see it plain.  Come, come, draw fool; draw ere I run thee through and dishonour sword by attacking thee, unarmed; draw, I say, fool!”

Count Adrian’s face was ghastly.  Lord Cedric raised his sword and made a lunge at him.  La Fosse was too quick for Cedric.  He sprang between and parried the pass with astounding dexterity.  The monk intended it for a finale stroke; but not so Cedric.  He began a fight that was not to be so easily ended, and he drove his sword in fury.  The good monk only wished to parry; but alas! he caught the spirit of battle and fought.  Constantine made as if to draw the maid from the scene, while others sought to interfere with the combatants.  ’Twas of no avail.  Katherine could not be moved from where she stood, white and still as a statue; neither could they interpose between the Abbe and his Lordship.  Sorrow and dismay were written on every face, for ’twas sure one or the other must fall of those two masters of the sword.  Already there fell at La Fosse’s feet drops of blood.  When Katherine saw them, she sprang forward and cried,—­