She could not utter the dreaded name.
Wulf could not trust himself to speak; but he bowed his head in acquiescence. ...............
‘Yes—I will go—up into the desert—with Philammon—and you shall never hear of me again. And I will be a nun, and pray for him, that he may be a great king, and conquer all the world. You will tell him why I went away, will you not? Yes, I will go,—now, at once—’
She turned away hurriedly, as if to act upon her promise, and then she sprang again to Wulf with a sudden shudder.
‘I cannot, Wulf!—I cannot leave him! I shall go mad if I do! Do not be angry;—I will promise anything—take any oath you like, if you will only let me stay here. Only as a slave—as anything—if I may but look at him sometimes. No—not even that—but to be tinder the same roof with him, only—Oh, let me be but a slave in the kitchen! I will make over all I have to him—to you—to any one! And you shall tell him that I am gone—dead, if you will.—Only let me stay! And I will wear rags, and grind in the mill.... Even that will be delicious, to know that he is eating the bread which I have made! And if I ever dare speak to him—even to come near hint—let the steward hang me up by the wrists, and whip me, like the slave which I deserve to be!... And then shall I soon grow old and ugly with grief, and—there will be no more danger then, dear Wulf, will there, from this accursed face of mine? Only promise me that, and—There he is calling you! Don’t let him come in and see me!—I cannot bear it! Go to him, quick, and tell him all.—No, don’t tell him yet....’
And she sank down again on the floor, as Wulf went out murmuring to himself—
‘Poor child! poor child! well for thee this clay if thou wert dead, and at the bottom of Hela!’
And Pelagia heard what he said.
Gradually, amid sobs and tears, and stormy confusion of impossible hopes and projects, those words took root in her mind, and spread, till they filled her whole heart and brain.
‘Well for me if I were dead?’