‘What is that?’
‘It is too late! The daughter of Besso is no more.’
‘Jesu preserve us!’ exclaimed Tancred, starting. ‘Speak it again: what is it that you say?’
Astarte shook her head.
‘Woman!’ said Tancred, and he seized her hand, but his thoughts were too wild for utterance, and he remained pallid and panting.
‘The daughter of Besso is no more; and I do not lament it, for you loved her.’
‘Oh, grief ineffable!’ said Tancred, with a groan, looking up to heaven, and covering his face with his hands: ‘I loved her, as I loved the stars and sunshine.’ Then, after a pause, he turned to Astarte, and said, in a rapid voice, ‘This dreadful deed; when, how, did it happen?’
‘Is it so dreadful?’
‘Almost as dreadful as such words from woman’s lips. A curse be on the hour that I entered these walls!’
‘No, no, no!’ said Astarte, and she seized his arm distractedly. ‘No, no! No curse!’