Her confusion was painful, and for a moment she could not speak, but stood trembling before him.
In his passion, he seized her roughly by the arm and said, hoarsely,
"In a word, yes or no?"
His manner offended her proud spirit, and she looked him angrily in the face and said, haughtily;
"Yes."
He recoiled from her as if he had been stung.
Her anger died away in a moment, and she leaned against the grape-trellis for support.
"Do you love him?" he faltered, his bronzed cheek blanching.
"No," she gasped.
The blood rushed furiously into his face, and he took an angry stride toward her. She cowered before him, but almost wished that he would strike her dead. In a voice hoarse with rage, he said:
"This, then, is the end of our friendship. This is the best that your religion has taught you. If not your pitiful faith, then has not your woman's nature told you that neither priest nor book can marry you to that coarse lump of earth?" and he turned on his heel and strode away.