This epistle would of a certainty have moved me to laughter at any other time but, as things stood, the matter and manner of the low varlet’s letter in daring to write thus of Ann, roused me to fury.  And yet he was a brave fellow, and of rare faithfulness to his master; for when the Marchese’s nephew had fallen upon Herdegen, he had wrenched the sword out of the young nobleman’s hand at the peril of his own life and had thereafter modestly held his peace as to that brave deed.  It was, in truth, hard not to betray the coming of this letter, even by a look; yet did I hide it; but when another letter was brought, not long after, all care and secrecy were vain.

Oh! that dreadful letter.  I could not hide the matter of it; but I let pass her mother’s wedding before I confessed to Ann what my brother had written to me.

That cruel letter lies before me now.  It is longer than any he had written me heretofore, and I will here write it fair, for indeed I could not, an I would, copy the writing, so wild and reckless as it is.

“All must be at an end, Margery, betwixt Ann and me”—­and those first words stung me like a whip-lash.  “There.  ’Tis written, and now you know it.  I was never worthy of her, for I have sold my heart’s love for money, as Judas sold the Lord.

“Not that my love or longing are dead.  Even while I write I feel dragged to her; a thousand voices cry to me that there is but one Ann, and when a few weeks ago the young Sieur de Blonay made so bold as to vaunt of his lady and her rose-red as above all other ladies and colors, my sword compelled him to yield the place of honor to blue—­for whose sake you know well.

“And nevertheless I must give her up.  Although I fled from temptation, it pursued me, and when it fell upon me, after a short battle I was brought low.  The craving for those joys of the world which she tried to teach me to scorn, is strong within me.  I was born to sin; and now as matters stand they must remain.  A wight such as I am, who shoots through life like a wild hawk, cannot pause nor think until a shaft has broken his wings.  The bitter fate which bids me part from Ann has stricken me thus, and now I can only look back and into my own soul; and the fairer, the sweeter, the loftier is she whom I have lost, the darker and more vile, meseemeth, is all I discover in myself.

“Yet, or ever I cast behind me all that was pure and noble, righteous and truly blissful, I hold up the mirror to my own sinful face, and will bring, myself to show to you, my Margery, the hideous countenance I behold therein.

“I will not cloke nor spare myself in anything; and yet, at this hour, which finds me sober and at home, having quitted my fellows betimes this night, I verily believe that I might have done well, and not ill, and what was pleasing in the sight of God, and in yours, my Margery, and in the eyes of Ann and of all righteous folk, if only some other hand had had the steering of my life’s bark.