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Runkle, Bertha, 1879-1958

"Helmet of Navarre"

"
He had possessed himself of her hand and was bending over her, burning
her with his hot eyes. Mass of lies as the man was, in this last
sentence I knew he spoke the truth.
She strove to free herself from him with none of the flattered pride in
his declaration which he had perhaps looked for. Instead, she eyed him
with positive fear, as if she saw no way of escape from his rampant
desire.
"I wish rather you would practise a little virtue to win me," she said.
"So I will if you ask it," he returned, unabashed. "Lorance, I love you
so there is no depth to which I could not stoop to gain you; there is
no height to which I cannot rise. There is no shame so bitter, no danger
so awful, that I would not face it for you. Nor is there any sacrifice I
will not make to gain your good will. I hate M. de Mar above any living
man because you have smiled on him; but I will let him go for your sake.
I swear to you before the figure of Our Blessed Lady there that I will
drop all enmity to Etienne de Mar. From this time forward I will neither
move against him nor cause others to move against him in any shape or
manner, so help me God!"
He dropped her hand to kiss the cross of his sword. She retreated from
him, her face very pale, her breast heaving.
"You make it hard for me to know when you are speaking the truth," she
said.


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