woman appearing as such must be morally ruined. I never heard of an
exception to the rule. Belviso's real name was Geronima Sastre, and she
was a native of the Trentino.--F. A. S.] I looked up at my beloved--now
at last my entirely beloved--wife. Bare as she was, her neck bare of
covering, her finger of the ring, she was my wife before God and the
angels. I rose and faced her, she met my looks without flinching, in her
eyes was no shame. The child lay sleeping in her shawl.

My heart beat high. I lifted up my face to the sky and laughed aloud. "O
God, O God, Thou hast redeemed me!" I cried. Then to Virginia I said,
"This child of thine----"

"It is thine," said Virginia.

My arms embraced both mother and babe, but with a hand I took her by the
chin. She turned her face to me, and with her clear eyes searched my
face. "It is ours," she said, and blushed.

"And I am yours, my Virginia," I said, and stooped to her. Our lips met
and stayed together. We kissed long, drinking the joy of one another.
The Fool would err no more.




CHAPTER XLVIII

THE LAST