Then Stephen the smith smiled, and his smile was happy.
"Yet," said he, "it would make small difference to the Princess Osra whether Stephen the smith lived or died."
At this, although he lay there a dying man, a sudden flush of red spread all over her cheeks, and she turned her eyes away from his, and would not meet his glance; she made him no answer, and he said again:
"What can it concern the Princess whether I live or die?"
Still the blush burnt on her cheek, and still she had no answer to give to Stephen, as he lay dying with his head on her lap. And a bright gleam came into his eyes, and he tried to move a hand towards her hand; and she, seeing the effort, put out her hand and held his; and he whispered very low, for he could hardly speak:
"You have not yet refused me three times, madame."
At that her eyes came back to his, and their eyes dwelt long on one another. And for a moment it seemed to them that all things became possible, life and joy and love. Yet since all could not be, they were content that none should be.
Then the Princess bent low over his head, and she whispered to him:
"No, I have not refused you thrice, Stephen."
His lips just moved once again, and, being very near him, she heard: