Over the railing of the pavilion opposite to him a woman climbed nimbly as a cat, and from it, like a cat, dropped to the ground full ten feet below, then, gathering up her dress about her knees, ran swiftly towards him.

It was Betty! Betty without a doubt! Betty in her gorgeous garb, with pearls and braided hair flying loose behind her.

He stared amazed.

All stared amazed, and in half a minute she was on them, and, standing over the fallen Morella, gasped out: "Let him be! I bid you let him be." Peter knew not what to do or say, so advanced to speak with her, whereon with a swoop like that of a swallow she pounced upon his sword that lay in the sand and, leaping back to Morella, shook it on high, shouting: "You will have to fight me first, Peter." Indeed, she did more, striking at him so shrewdly with his own sword that he was forced to spring sideways to avoid the stroke.

Now a great roar of laughter went up to heaven.