"Then tell me—why you kept the ring?"
"Because the only woman I ever cared—to make my friend, took it from her finger and gave it to me."
"Now the Emperor is pleased to pay compliments."
"You don't think that, really? You know I am sincere."
"But you had only seen me for an hour. Instead of meriting your friendship, I had, on the contrary——"
"For one hour? How long ago is that hour? A week or so, I suppose—as time counts. But then came yesterday, and the thing you did for me. Now I have known you always."
"If you had, perhaps you would not want me for your friend." 126
"I do want you."
The words would come. It was true—already true. He did want her. But not only as a friend. His world, a world without women or passion ardent enough to eclipse principles, was upside down.
It was well that the ten minutes' grace between dances was over, the music for the next about to begin. A young officer, Count von Markstein's half-brother, who was to be Sylvia's partner, came toward her, then stepped back, seeing that she was with the Emperor. But Maximilian permitted his approach, with a gesture.