It took a long time in the telling, and I could feel the girl shrink and wince as the truth came out in the dreary, monotonous voice of the terror-possessed wretch.
"Take me away, cousin Hans, I cannot bear this," she cried to me piteously. "My poor, poor brother!"
"Yes, we will go," I said. "But it was right for you to hear the tale, and to know who in reality played the villain's part in it."
I led her out in the moonlight then, and told Praga that we should go.
"As you will," he answered; "I will follow. Take my horse, and I'll do the best I can with yours."
In turning to speak to me he loosened his hold somewhat of von Nauheim for an instant, and the latter, with what sounded like a great sob of fear, broke away, and threw himself on the ground at Minna's feet.
"For God's sake, don't go away, Minna. Don't leave me with this man. He will murder me. Have mercy on me. Plead with him for me. You can save me. Minna, do you hear? For God's sake, have mercy," and he caught hold of her dress and clung to her—the type of broken, abject, fright-becrazed cowardice.
"Don't touch me!" she cried. "Your hands are red with my brother's blood."
"Get up, you crawling, unclean brute, and cease your whining," said Praga, dragging him to his feet.
"Don't let him be killed, cousin Hans," whispered Minna. "He is not fit to die. But, oh, take me away. This scene is killing me," she cried in distress.