“Yes,” I said, “by my servant and my sister. You called and I came, Nicola, ‘bringing my sheaves with me.’”
He was breathing fast, but he did not answer.
“Are you not pleased,” I said, “that I give up everything for you and to you; that I devote my best to the cause—our cause, Nicola; that at the bidding of my brother I have moved my tent into the wilderness? Are you not pleased with me?”
“There is danger in the wilderness,” he muttered. “No, I am not pleased.”
I fell back with a little shiver. “No more for her than for me,” I answered.
“It is not the same,” he said; “it is not the same thing at all.” In an instant he had gripped my wrist. “Send her back into safety. She shall not risk her life here—by God, she shall not!”
And then I think I understood. I was calm as death, and as cold. It had needed but these few words to turn me into stone. My God! all my fervour and self-sacrifice—and this for their reward! I laughed out quite gaily—
“O, mon chéri! in the rain and the dark? Are you mad? Please to convey us to some shelter.”
He hesitated a moment; then beckoned to Patty, who came running like a dog to the whistle. Pissani turned his back as she approached.
“Tell your servant to await your orders here,” he muttered; “and, for you, follow me.”