The gallery was lined on two sides with gorgeous portraits of princes in brocade, white muslin, steel armour, or jewels; but the couple never cast a glance at one of them, and Lindsay broke the silence by asking, in a hoarse voice:
"Now, what is her message? What does she wish you to say for her?"
"I am to say good-bye," replied Angel, looking at him steadfastly.
"I won't listen to it."
"You have no choice; you must. She implores you to go home at once. What is the use of remaining out here?"
"Because, even if I do not see her, I am near her—and that is something."
"It is madness. Will you not do as she wishes?"
"You know well that I would die for her."
"And she asks much less than your life—only to go—to go—to go."
"One would suppose you were talking to a dog!" he said angrily.