“Olaf,” she went on, “you have made me feel as I never felt before—­ashamed, utterly ashamed, and though I learn to hate you, as it well may hap I shall, know that I shall always honour you.”

Then she sank down upon the couch, and, hiding her face in her hands, wept bitterly.

It was at this moment that I went very near to loving Irene.

I think she must have felt something of what was passing in my mind, for suddenly she looked up and said:  “Give me that jewel,” and she pointed to the diadem on the floor, “and help me to order my hair; my hands shake.”

“Nay,” I said, as I gave her the crown.  “Of that wine I drink no more.  I dare not touch you; you grow too dear.”

“For those words,” she whispered, “go in safety, and remember that from Irene you have naught to fear, as I know well I have naught to fear from you, O Prince among men.”

So presently I went.

On the following morning, as I sat in my office at the prison, setting all things in order for whoever should succeed me, Martina entered, as she had done before.

“How came you here unannounced?” I asked, when she was seated.

“By virtue of this,” she answered, holding up her hand and showing on it a ring I knew.  It was the signet of the Empress.  I saluted the seal, saying: 

“And for what purpose, Martina?  To order me to bonds or death?”

“To bonds or death!” she exclaimed innocently.  “What can our good Olaf have done worthy of such woes?  Nay, I come to free one from bonds, and perhaps from death, namely, a certain heretic bishop who is named Barnabas.  Here is the order for his release, signed by the Augusta’s hand and sealed with her seal, under which he is at liberty to bide in Constantinople while he will and to return to his bishopric in Egypt when it pleases him.  Also, if he holds that any have harmed him, he may make complaint, and it shall be considered without delay.”

I took the parchment, read it, and laid it on the table, saying: 

“The commands of the Empress shall be done.  Is there aught else, Martina?”

“Yes.  To-morrow morning you will be relieved of your office, and another governor—­Stauracius and Aetius are quarrelling as to his name—­will take your place.”

“And I?”

“You will resume your post as captain of the private guard, only with the rank of a full general of the army.  But that I told you yesterday.  It is now confirmed.”

I said nothing, but a groan I could not choke broke from my lips.

“You do not seem as pleased as you might be, Olaf.  Tell me, now, at what hour did you leave the palace last night?  While waiting for my mistress to summon me I fell asleep in the vestibule of the ante-room, and when I awoke and went into that room I found there the gold-broidered silk robe you wore, cast upon the ground, and your armour gone.”

“I know not what was the hour, Martina, and speak no more to me, I pray, of that accursed womanish robe.”