"You will have no cause to regret the union of our houses. With a new name and a new fortune you will find that Guillaume Villiers can take his place among the nobility of the world, and make a son-in-law of which not even a d'Chastillon need be ashamed."
"You are mad!" exclaimed the Count violently. "You—what is that?"
It was the patter of soft-slippered feet. Tina came hurriedly into the hall, curtsied timidly, and sidled around the table to thrust her small hands into Françoise's fingers. She was panting slightly, her slippers were damp, and her flaxen hair was plastered wetly on her head.
"Tina! Where have you been? I thought you were in your chamber!"
"I was," answered the child breathlessly, "but I missed my coral necklace you gave me—" She held it up, a trivial trinket, but prized beyond all her other possessions because it had been Françoise's first gift to her. "I was afraid you wouldn't let me go if you knew—a soldier's wife helped me out of the stockade and back again. I found my necklace by the pool where I bathed this morning. Please punish me if I have done wrong."
"Tina!" groaned Françoise, clasping the child to her. "I'm not going to punish you. But you should not have gone outside the stockade. Let me take you to your chamber and change these damp clothes—"
"Yes, my Lady," murmured Tina, "but first let me tell you about the black man—"
"What?" It was a cry that burst from Count Henri's lips. His goblet clattered to the floor as he caught the table with both hands. If a thunderbolt had struck him, his bearing could not have been more horrifyingly altered. His face was livid, his eyes starting from his head.
"What did you say`'" he panted. "What did you say, wench?"
"A black man, my lord," she stammered, while all stared at Henri in amazement "When I went down to the pool to get my necklace, I saw him. I was afraid and hid behind a ridge of sand. He came from the sea in an open boat. He drew the boat up on the sands below the south point, and strode toward the forest, looking like a giant in the fog, a great, tall black man="
Henri reeled as if he had received a mortal blow. He clutched at his throat, snapping the golden chain in his violence. With the face of a madman he lurched about the table and tore the child screaming from Françoise's arms.
"You lie!" he panted. "You lie to torment me! Say that you lie before I tear the skin from your back!"
"Uncle!" cried Françoise, trying to free Tina from his grasp. "Are you mad? What are you about?"
With a snarl he tore her hand from his arm and spun her staggering into the arms of Gallot who received her with a leer he did not conceal.
"Mercy, my lord!" sobbed Tina. "I did not lie!"
"I say you lied!" roared Henri. "Jacques!"
A stolid serving man seized the shivering youngster and tore the garments from her back with one brutal wrench. Wheeling, he drew her slender arms over his shoulders, lifting her feet clear of the floor.
"Uncle!" shrieked Françoise, writhing vainly in Gallot's grasp. "You are mad! You can not—oh, you can not—!" The cry choked in her throat as Henri caught up a jewel-hilted riding whip and brought it down across the child's frail body with a savagery that left a red weal across her naked shoulders.
Françoise went sick with the anguish in Tina's shriek. The world had suddenly gone mad. As if in a nightmare she saw the stolid faces of the retainers, reflecting neither pity nor sympathy. Villiers' sneering face was part of the nightmare. Nothing in that crimson haze was real except Tina's naked white shoulders, crisscrossed with red welts; no sound real except the child's sharp cries of agony, and the panting gasps of Henri as he lashed away with the staring eyes of a madman, shrieking: "You lie! Admit your guilt, or I will flay you! He could not have followed me here—"
"Mercy, mercy, my lord!" screamed the child, writhing vainly on the brawny servant's back. "I saw him! I do not lie! Please! Please!"
"You fool! You fool!" screamed Françoise, almost beside herself. "Do you not see she is telling the truth? Oh, you beast! Beast! Beast!"
Suddenly some shred of sanity seemed to return to Henri's brain. Dropping the whip he reeled back and fell up against the table, clutching blindly at its edge. He shook as if with an ague. H is hair was plastered across his brow in dank strands, and sweat dripped from his livid countenance which was like a carven mask of Fear. Tina, released by Jacques, slipped to the floor in a whimpering heap. Françoise tore free from Gallot, rushed to her, sobbing, and fell on her knees, gathering the pitiful waif into her arms. She lifted a terrible face to her uncle, to pour upon him the full vials of her wrath—but he was not looking at her. In a daze of incredulity, she heard him say: "I accept your offer, Villiers. In God's name, let us find your treasure and begone from this accursed coast!"
