But Beltane looked upon her as one in deep amaze, his arms fell from her and he stepped back and so stood very still and, as he gazed, a growing horror dawned within his eyes.
"What art thou?" he whispered.
"Nay, Beltane," she murmured, "ah--look not so!"
"Who art thou--and what?" he said.
"Nay, did I not tell thee at the first? I am Helen--hast thou not known? I am Helen--Helen of Mortain."
"Thou--thou art the Duchess Helen?" said Beltane with stiffening lips, "thou the Duchess and I--a smith!" and he laughed, short and fierce, and would have turned from her but she stayed him with quivering hands.
"And--did'st not know?" she questioned hurriedly, "methought it was no secret--I would have told thee ere this had I known. Nay--look not so, Beltane--thou dost love me yet--nay, I do know it!" and she strove to smile, but with lips that quivered strangely.
"Aye, I love thee, Helen of Mortain--though there be many fair lords to do that! But, as for me--I am only a smith, and as a smith greatly would I despise thee. Yet may this not be, for as my body is great, so is my love. Go, therefore, thy work here is done, go--get thee to thy knightly lovers, wed this Duke who seeks thee--do aught you will but go, leave me to my hammers and these green solitudes."
So spake he, and turning, strode away, looking not back to where she stood leaning one white hand against a tree. Once she called to him but he heeded not, walking ever with bowed head and hearing only the tumult within him and the throbbing of his wounded heart. And now, in his pain needs must he think of yet another Helen and of the blood and agony of blazing Troy town, and lifting up his hands to heaven he cried aloud: "Alas! that one so fair should be a thing so evil!"
All in haste Beltane came to his lonely hut and taking thence his cloak and great sword, he seized upon his mightiest hammer and beat down the roof of the hut and drave in the walls of it; thereafter he hove the hammer into the pool, together with his anvil and rack of tools and so, setting the sword in his girdle and the cloak about him, turned away and plunged into the deeper shadows of the forest.
But, ever soft and faint with distance, the silvery voices of the bells stole upon the warm, stilly air, speaking of pomp and state, of pride and circumstance, but now these seemed but empty things, and the Duchess Helen stood long with bent head and hands that strove to shut the sounds away. But in the end she turned, slow-footed amid the gathering shadows and followed whither they called.