“What others?”

The question did not disconcert her.  “Your subjects,” she said quickly.

“My subjects are of many classes.”

“All are of one class in resenting this charter.  I am told you intend to proclaim it within a few days.  I entreat you at least to delay, to reconsider your course.  Oh, believe me when I say you are in danger!  Of what use to offer a crown to our Lady, when you have it in your heart to slight her servants?  But I will not speak of the clergy, since you despise them—­nor of the nobles, since you ignore their claims.  I will speak only of the people—­the people, in whose interest you profess to act.  Believe me, in striking at the Church you wound the poor.  It is not their bodily welfare I mean—­though Heaven knows how many sources of bounty must now run dry!  It is their faith you insult.  First you turn them against their masters, then against their God.  They may acclaim you for it now—­but I tell you they will hate you for it in the end!”

She paused, flushed with the vehemence of her argument, and eager to press it farther.  But her last words had touched an unexpected fibre in Odo.  He looked at her with his unseeing visionary gaze.

“The end?” he murmured.  “Who knows what the end will be?”

“Do you still need to be told?” she exclaimed.  “Must you always come to me to learn that you are in danger?”

“If the state is in danger the danger must be faced.  The state exists for the people; if they do not need it, it has ceased to serve its purpose.”

She clasped her hands in an ecstasy of wonder.  “Oh, fool, madman—­but it is not of the state I speak!  It is you who are in danger—­you—­you—­you—­”

He raised his head with an impatient gesture.

“I?” he said.  “I had thought you meant a graver peril.”

She looked at him in silence.  Her pride met his and thrilled with it; and for a moment the two were one.

“Odo!” she cried.  She sank into a chair, and he went to her and took her hand.

“Such fears are worthy neither of us,” he said gravely.

“I am not ashamed of them,” she said.  Her hand clung to him and she lifted her eyes to his face.  “You will listen to me?” she whispered in a glow.

He drew back chilled.  If only she had kept the feminine in abeyance!  But sex was her only weapon.

“I have listened,” he said quietly.  “And I thank you.”

“But you will not be counselled?”

“In the last issue one must be one’s own counsellor.”

Her face flamed.  “If you were but that!” she tossed back at him.

The taunt struck him full.  He knew that he should have let it lie; but he caught it up in spite of himself.

“Madam!” he said.

“I should have appealed to our sovereign, not to her servant!” she cried, dashing into the breach she had made.

He stood motionless, stunned almost.  For what she had said was true.  He was no longer the sovereign:  the rule had passed out of his hands.