Under King Constantine | Page 8

woman-child, I know Your many-sided nature far too
well To judge you or condemn you by one act, Born of a frenzied
moment of despair; When the true Gwendolaine has time to think,
Naught I could urge would keep her, though she came."
"But Torm would kill me if I did return"--
"Leave that to me; but if he should, my love, Your soul would then be
free,--what ask you more? Now you are weary, very weary, sweet; Go
in the castle, let me call my dames To tend and serve you until morning
light; And on the morrow you will choose to go With me, I am full sure,
and make your peace With Torm, as worthy of your better self."
"With you? O God! Sanpeur, if I return, I go alone as I have come!
Think you That I would take you with me to your death?"

"My life is yours,--how use it better, dear, Than winning peace and
happiness for you?"
"But it would be keen misery for life"--
"It leadeth unto happiness and peace In the far future, if we fail not now.
This life is but the filling of a trust, To prove us worthy of the life
beyond, And happiness is never to be sought. If it comes,--well; if not,
we shall know why. When we are happy in the sight of God."
Then there was silence on the battlements; No sound was heard but the
slow measured clang Of feet that paced the stony path below;--
Gwendolaine pushed aside the wind-blown hair From her wild eyes,
and gazed into Sanpeur's. As the slow minutes passed the frenzied
mood Faded away from her like fevered dream; With hands clasped in
a passion of devout, Complete surrender, falling at his feet She
whispered, brokenly, between her sobs;
"Sanpeur, I will go back to Torm,--for you,-- Go back and live my life
as best I may, If he forgive me;--and if not, receive The condemnation
of my fault as meet. Your love has done what love should ever do,--
Illumined duty's path, and its far goal, Hid for a moment by a dark
despair. I thought I loved you perfectly before, But my soul tells me,
deep below the pain, I love you more than if you bade me stay."
He took her hands and kissed them tenderly With quiet kisses, long and
calm, which held Sure promise of the strength he fain would give; Then,
bending o'er her yearningly, he said In tones that stilled her spirit into
rest, "God guard you, my beloved, evermore." A new force flowed into
her soul from his.
She rose and left him.
He gave orders strict For her best comfort; then walked out alone, To
meet and wrestle with his passion, held So long in leash by honour, free
at last With overmastering and giant strength. The subtle fragrance of
her hands pervades His senses; in his veins he feels the flow Of her
warm breath, which entered into them That moment he had caught her

as she fell; Her words of love sweep like a surging tide Across the quiet
of his self-control. When she was there, his love for her had kept His
passion from uprising, though against His pleading heart, so long her
pleading seemed. Now she is gone, all calm and thought are lost In the
impassioned wish for her, the thirst To drink the sweetness of her deep,
rich soul, Without a thought of Torm, or all the world. Sanpeur's
well-rounded nature is triune, And flesh and sense as much a part of
him As his clear brain and spirit consecrate. Passion for once asserts
itself; he starts, And towards the castle strides with rapid steps; "She is
my own, Fate sent her here to me; I cannot war against it any more; I
will go in and fold her to myself."
He clasps his empty arms upon his breast, In the abandonment of wild
desire, And feels, beneath the pressure of his hands, The sacred Order
of the Holy Ghost. "Good Lord, deliver me from sin," he cries, And
bows his knightly head in silent prayer.
No earnest soul can ask and not receive: Before the warden's
deep-toned voice calls out Another watch, Sanpeur has overcome.
He passed his night beneath the silent stars, Below the resting-room of
Gwendolaine, Who lay within his castle, loving him, While he kept
watch, to guard her from himself.
Just ere the morning light, there was a cry From his most faithful
seneschal to rouse The vassals to defend the brave Sanpeur, Loved
loyally; and from the battlements He saw Sir Torm, waging a savage
fight To win an entrance through his castle gate. With hurried steps he
reached the gate, and with The cry,--drowned by the din