Danira drew herself up proudly, her eyes flashed, and with passionate pride she retorted:
"But I am not like your women, and never will be--that is the very reason I will belong to none of you."
Her defiance irritated Marco, but at the same time produced an impression upon him, for it contained a shade of his own unbridled, unbending will. His hand was still clenched, but as his eyes rested on the beautiful face, glowing with excitement, he murmured:
"No, you are different--that is why I cannot give you up."
A pause ensued; Danira stooped and began to put fresh fuel on the dying fire. Her hands showed that she had learned to work and did not spare herself, but every movement was full of grace and power.
Marco silently watched her, and suddenly advancing a step nearer seized the girl's arm, asking in an abrupt, vehement tone:
"Why do you scorn my suit? I am the chief, the richest man in the tribe, even richer than your brother. You need not labor like the other women, you shall be no slave in my house--no, Danira, I promise you!"
There was a strange blending of sullen menace and ardent passion in the words, nay, even an accent of entreaty in the promise. It was evident that the rude son of the mountains was completely under the thrall of a feeling experienced for the first time, and which subdued his masculine obstinacy. He pleaded where, in his opinion, he was entitled to demand, but Danira with quiet decision released her arm.
"You cannot act contrary to your nature, Marco, even if you wished. You must rule and oppress, and when angered you know no limits. You bend even my brother absolutely to your will; what would be your wife's fate? And is this a time to think of marriage? Stephan has just told you what has happened; he has been defeated."
"For the third time! By all the saints, I would not have allowed myself to be routed, but Stephan is no leader--never has been."