“Does he think I would not do this if I dared?” And throwing herself back in her seat, she pressed her hands to her face, quite overcome with the strain of her emotions.
I waited in much embarrassment, uncertain whether to go or stay. Some moments passed in this tense silence, and then, to my surprise, she turned upon me with some indignation.
“Why did you bring him here to humiliate me like this? Does it give you pleasure to stay and witness my weakness—or what you deem weakness? Cannot you understand what I feel? Is everything to yield place to ambition, and are the dictates of humanity nothing to you? Cannot you see what I am suffering, torn in this way by the distracting doubts of such a crisis? Do you think these tears are not as hard for me to shed as the blood of others as innocent of wrong as God knows I am? Why do you plague me until I—— Oh, forgive me my wild words! I don’t know what I am saying.” And she passed in a breath from indignation to lament.
“Permit me to leave you now, Princess,” I murmured.
“Would you also leave me in anger? Have I no friend staunch enough to bear with my moods, or true enough to understand me? Yes, Count Benderoff, if you wish to go the way is open to you.” And, rising, she stood erect and proud, and made me a stately bow as of dismissal. “I can decide and act alone, if need be.” Yet in the very moment of her passing indignation her lip quivered and her breath was tremulous.
“As God is my judge, I have no thought but for you!” I cried, with a rush of passion at the sight of her trouble, and I threw myself on my knee before her. “Tell me how you wish me to act, and when I have failed reproach me with want of staunchness, but not till then.”
My voice was hoarse and broken.
As I knelt I could hear the quick catches in her breath as she stood over me, and the very rustling of the trembling laces of her dress seemed to speak to me of her sufferings.
“I have wronged you, or worse—I have insulted you, Count. Ah me! I who know so well how you are indeed my friend! Do not kneel to me. It is I who should kneel to you.” And at that her hand, fevered and trembling, was laid gently in mine, as if to raise me to my feet.
I kissed the fingers, the tender grace of her words of contrition almost unmanning me, and driving out all thought but of my love and my desire to comfort her. I rose, and, still holding her hand, gazed into her eyes, which shone on me through the dew of her tears in a smile of loving confidence.