I thought a moment, and then saw a different line and promptly adopted it.
“You are too late, Karasch,” I said, as gravely and solemnly as I could speak.
“No, there is always time within the same moon.”
“No; she has rendered me proof against any knife or bullet for three days on condition that I defend her. And I’ve sworn that I will die before anyone shall harm her.”
It was a beautiful bluff. He started back and looked at me in manifest horror and crossed himself as he muttered a prayer.
“Don’t do that, you hurt me, Karasch,” I said, pretending to shudder.
“Great God of all. And you a Christian, Burgwan.”
His agitation was almost piteous. He turned deathly pale and beads of perspiration stood on his forehead, as he stared at me horror-struck. “And I have sworn to save you.” It was just a whisper of dismay and helplessness, and it showed the struggle which was raging between his superstition and his fealty to me.
“I’ll release you from your oath to me, if you wish; and you and the rest can leave as soon as you like.”
“No, by God, no; not if I’m damned forever,” he cried. “I’ll stand by you, Burgwan, mad blind fool though you’ve been. Curse the witch and all her infernal arts;” and he was at it again with his vehement crossing and spitting and prayers.