"Doris!" He laid a hand over the slim white fingers. She shrank back, and then suffered her hand to lie in his, passively.
"Look up, child," he urged gently. "Let me see your eyes."
She closed them tightly. A warm tear splashed upon his hand.
Count Poltavo was very white, but he smiled.
"Do you weep," he said softly, "because you have given yourself to me? Or because you do not love me?"
The tears fell faster.
He took both her hands. "Dear lady," he said, "let our hearts speak only true words to-day. You have already chosen a mate—is it not true?"
She sat mute, but a burning flush betrayed her.
The count rose suddenly to his feet, and made his way blindly to the rail. When he returned, a few moments later, his face was tranquil and serene. "I have put my question," he said lightly, "and you have answered it—with a blush! Let us drop the poor unfortunate subject into oblivion."
She took a long deep breath, as if throwing off the weight of a weary burden. "I am free?" she whispered.