candle will go out in the dark some time. Take me away from here. I am afraid! I fear the dark, and the moon will soon pale, shrink and die also."
He soothed her as best he could, caressingly, telling her they would leave in a few days; just as soon as he could get another car.
They spent that day as lovers and for long moments Constance seemed to forget her fears in the embraces of the man. At other times she looked furtively into the dark forest. They told the dame they were leaving and she sighed, saying she wished they had never come. None too happy, the bride and her husband returned to their bedroom, discussing plans for their future.
"And I think," said Paul Gallien suddenly, "that before we go we had better throw out that dead mistletoe and clean the room. Suppose we do it now? I will borrow a shears from the old woman."
He returned shortly with a great pair of shears, such scissors as the oldest Fate used to clip the thread of life. While Constance sat on the bridal chest and cried a little, he cut all the ropes and rotten sheet, then threw the dead plant and other things with it out the window. As he wiped off the oaken bedstead he remarked:
"This wood is all dry and powdery. I believe I could break it in two in my hands. The mistletoe must have taken most of the life out of it."
"It has taken most of the life out of me," the woman added under her breath.
"No. We are just beginning to live. There are so many happy days to come."
Thus and so he tried to cheer her. The work done, he placed the shears on the bed and then coaxed her to come to supper. She said she was tired and asked that they go to bed early that evening.
Returning to the room she noticed the shears on the bed, exactly in the middle of the coverlet.
"How odd you are," she said to her husband. "You left those shears on the bed, exactly in the middle. If it stays there, it will be between us all night."
"That would be a good idea," he answered gently, "you are tired and this has been a hard day for you. Thus in olden times the knights did with their swords when they wished to assure their damsels of an undisturbed night. So, you stay on your side of the shears and I will stay on mine. Thus we shall both waken refreshed on the morrow."
Half an hour passed.
"I am frightened, Paul," she whimpered. “Is that thunder I hear? Hold my hand—tight!"
He did so and went to sleep.
Then came the full moon lighting the room with its yellow beams, and the woman heard the sounds of the pipe in the dark forest. At once she knew she must go out and dance or die from desire. As she tried to rise her hair held her back. She started to pull the long braids but they still held her. At last she took courage and slid her hand down the braid till she found it wrapped round the neck of the man who had held her hand. Her hair, those long, black, snake-like tresses, was wrapped atound his neck; covered his face.
She screamed; for she knew that Paul Gallien was dead; and she knew the manner of his death.
Yet the pipe called her to the dark forest.
She took the shears and cut her hair, close to her head she cut it. Strand by strand, she cut it till she was free, and as the hair loosened it clung closer to the man's face and throat as though not quite satisfied that the deed was done.
Constance took off her silken robe and spread it over the thing that lay on the bed. Under the silk all was still, save for the final convulsive twistings of the ropes of hair, tightening uselessly round the
