"Is this great love I foretold come upon thee, Beltane?"
"Truly a man hath not lived until he hath felt a woman's kisses upon his lips!"
"Nay," he answered, smiling, "'tis part of me, and must be so henceforth--forever!"
But now she sighed again, and trembled in his arms and clasped him close, as one beset by sudden fear, while ever soft with distance came the silvery voices of the bells, low yet insistent, sweet yet commanding; wherefore she, sighing, put him from her.
"Why then," said she, with drooping head, "fare thee well, messire. Nay, see you not? Methinks my task is done. And it hath been a-- pleasing task, this--of teaching thee to love--O, would you had not learned so soon! Fare thee well. Beltane!"
But Beltane looked upon her as one in deep amaze, his arms fell from her and he stepped back and so stood very still and, as he gazed, a growing horror dawned within his eyes.
"Nay, Beltane," she murmured, "ah--look not so!"
"Nay, did I not tell thee at the first? I am Helen--hast thou not known? I am Helen--Helen of Mortain."
"Thou--thou art the Duchess Helen?" said Beltane with stiffening lips, "thou the Duchess and I--a smith!" and he laughed, short and fierce, and would have turned from her but she stayed him with quivering hands.
"And--did'st not know?" she questioned hurriedly, "methought it was no secret--I would have told thee ere this had I known. Nay--look not so, Beltane--thou dost love me yet--nay, I do know it!" and she strove to smile, but with lips that quivered strangely.
"Aye, I love thee, Helen of Mortain--though there be many fair lords to do that! But, as for me--I am only a smith, and as a smith greatly would I despise thee. Yet may this not be, for as my body is great, so is my love. Go, therefore, thy work here is done, go--get thee to thy knightly lovers, wed this Duke who seeks thee--do aught you will but go, leave me to my hammers and these green solitudes."
So spake he, and turning, strode away, looking not back to where she stood leaning one white hand against a tree. Once she called to him but he heeded not, walking ever with bowed head and hearing only the tumult within him and the throbbing of his wounded heart. And now, in his pain needs must he think of yet another Helen and of the blood and agony of blazing Troy town, and lifting up his hands to heaven he cried aloud: