‘What was that shriek? What is the meaning of this? Pelagia!’
Pelagia, like a child caught playing with a forbidden toy, hid her face in her hands and cowered down.
‘What is it?’ cried he, lifting her.
But she burst from his arms.
‘No, no!—never more! I am not worthy of you! Let me die, wretch that I am! I can only drag you down. You must be a king. You must marry her—the wise woman!’
‘Hypatia! She is dead!’
‘Dead?’ shrieked Pelagia.
‘Murdered, an hour ago, by those Christian devils.’
Pelagia put her hands over her eyes, and burst into tears. Were they of pity or of joy?... She did not ask herself; and we will not ask her.
‘Where is my sword? Soul of Odin! Why is it fastened here?’