floor--and for a few minutes was madder with Joy than ever in his life
he had been with Fear.

_For Fear was gone. The World of Woe had fallen from his shoulders.
The Snake was to him but a wretched reptile whose head he would crush
ere it bruised his heel. He was sane--he was safe--he was a Man again,
and ere many days were past he would be the husband of Lucille and the
master of Monksmead._

"Oh, God forgive me for a blind, rebellious worm," he prayed. "Forgive
me, and strike not this cup from my lips. You would not punish the
blasphemy of a madman? I _cannot_ pray in ordered forms, but I beg
forgiveness for my hasty cry 'There is on God' ..." and then pressed
the Sword to his lips--the Sword that, under God, had overthrown the
_"Darling, I am cured! I have not the slightest fear of snakes. The
Sword has saved me. I am a Man again."_

He told her all as she sat laughing and sobbing for joy and the dying
snake lay at their feet.

In her heart of hearts Lucille determined that the wedding should take
place immediately, so that if this were but a temporary respite, the
result of the flash of daring inspired by the Sword, she would have
the right to care for him for the rest of his life ... She would----

"Look!" she suddenly shrieked, and pointed to where, in the doorway,
cutting them off from escape, was the mate of the cobra that lay
mangled before them. Had the injured reptile in some way called its
mate--or were they regular inhabitants of this deserted hut?