Marjorie Bowen

“ I am going alone to Martzburg."
Dirk set the goblet beside the lamp the while he watched her intently with frowning eyes. "What of Sebastian?" he repeated. "Ye fled from him, but have ye ceased to think of him?"
"No," said the chatelaine of Martzburg; "no, day and night—what is God, that He lets a man's face to come between me and Him?"
"The Emperor is dead," said Dirk.
"Is dead," she repeated. ”

“ She gazed up at him, then hid her face on his sleeve. "Ay, Hell," she answered heavily; "go to Martzburg to-night; she cannot claim you when she is dead; how I have striven not to hate her—my lord, my husband."
He put her from him into the worn old chair. "I will come back to you—to-morrow."
The wind rushed between them and made the lamp-flame leap wildly. "Make haste!" cried Dirk; "away—the horse is below."
Sebastian opened the door on to the dark stairway and went softly out. ”

“ Dirk clasped his cloak across his breast.
"At this moment he rides to Martzburg on this service of yours, and I must begone to Frankfort where my fortunes wait. For you, these words: should you meet again one Theirry, a pretty scholar, do not prate to him of God and Judgment, nor try to act the saint. Let him alone, he is no matter of yours, and maybe some woman cares for him as ye care for Sebastian, ay, and will hold him, though she have not yellow hair."
"You are the Devil!" she shrieked. "I have delivered myself unto the Devil!"
She beat her hands together, and fell towards his feet. ”