I counted them and drew a long breath. "Master priest," said I, and
held out my hand to the Princess, "in your Church, I believe,
matrimony is a sacrament. If you are ready, I am ready."
His loose lip twitched as he stepped forward. . . . When he paused in
his muttering I lifted the Princess's cold hand and drew a seal from
my pocket--a heavy seal with a ring attached, which I fitted on her
finger; and so I held her hand, letting drop on it by degrees the
weight of the heavy seal.
From the first she had offered no resistance, made no protest.
I pressed the seal into the palm of her hand, not telling her that it
was her own father's great seal of Corsica. But I folded her fingers
back on it, reverently touched the one encircled by the ring, and
said I--
"It is the best I can give;" and a little later, "It is all I brought
in my pockets but this handkerchief. Take that, too; lead me out;
and bandage my eyes, my wife."
She took my arm obediently and we stepped out by the doorway,
bridegroom and bride, in face of the soldiery. A sergeant saluted
and came forward for the Commandant's orders.
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