A dozen words, and he saw Enschede as clearly as though he stood hard by in the flesh. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. Her mouth at half-cock, Melusine stood there staring at him. She saw herself begin a slow, sinuous dance: and stop suddenly in the middle of a figure, conscious that the dance was not impromptu, her own, but native—the same dance she had quitted but a few minutes gone. " "My confessor!" ejaculated the knight, in the extremity of surprise; "has he betrayed his sacred trust?" "He has," replied the other, grinning; "and this will be a caution to you in future, how you confide a secret of consequence to a priest. Good-bye.
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