“I know most of it, my son.  In it, you do not altogether shine——­”

Michael got up from his chair, while he clasped his hands forcibly.

“No, indeed, I do not—­I know I have been an unspeakable brute—­I have not the grain of an excuse to offer—­and yet she has forgiven me.  Women are certainly angels, are they not, mon Pere?”

The Cure of Heronac sighed gently.

“Angels when they love, and demons when they hate—­of an unbalance—­but a great charm.  It lies with us men to decide the feather-weight which will make the scale go either way with them—­to heaven or hell.”

Here the ancient housekeeper announced that coffee and rolls were ready for them in the other room, and the Pere Anselme led the way without further words.

Less than an hour later, the two men who loved this one woman met just over the causeway, where Henry awaited Michael’s coming.  It was a difficult moment for them both, but they clasped hands with a few ordinary words.  Henry’s walk in the wind had strengthened his nerves.  For some reason, he was now conscious that he was feeling no acute pain as he had expected that he would do, and that there was even some kind of satisfaction in the thought that, on this Christmas morning, he was able to bring great happiness to Sabine.  He could not help remarking, as they crossed the drawbridge, that Michael looked a most suitable mate for her:  he was such a picture of superb health and youth.  As they entered the courtyard, Moravia and her little son came out of the main door.

The Princess greeted them gaily.  She was going to show Girolamo the big waves from the causeway bridge before going on to church; they had a good half-hour.  She experienced no surprise at seeing Michael, only asking about his night journey’s uncomfortableness, and then she turned to Henry: 

“Come and join us there by the high parapet, Henry, as soon as you have taken Mr. Arranstoun up to Sabine.  She has not come out of her wing yet; but I know that she is dressed and in her sitting-room,” and smiling merrily, she took Girolamo’s little hand and went her way.

There was no sound when the two men reached Sabine’s sitting-room door.  Henry knocked gently, but no answer came; so he opened it and looked in.  Great fires burned in the wide chimneys and his flowers gave forth sweet scent, but the Lady of Heronac was absent, or so it seemed.

“Come in, Michael, and wait,” Henry said; and then, from the embrasure of the far window, they heard a stifled exclamation, and saw that Sabine was indeed there after all, and had risen from the floor, where she had been kneeling by the window-seat looking out upon the waves.

Her face was deadly pale and showed signs of a night’s vigil, but when she caught sight of Michael it was as though the sun had emerged from a cloud, so radiant grew her eyes.  She stood quite still, waiting until they advanced near to her down the long room, and then she steadied herself against the back of a tall chair.