'I cannot.' The Emperor turned away, and covered his face with his hands, more as if trying to concentrate his thoughts than as if in despair. 'No, I cannot,' he repeated presently. 'Save the boy first,' he repeated, dropping his hands and turning to Zeno again, 'then I will go with you.'
Zeno was silent for a moment, and then spoke in a determined tone.
'Hear me, sire,' he said. 'A man does not run such risks twice, except for his own blood. You must either come with me at once, or give up the idea that I shall ever help you to escape. The boy may be in danger, but so are you yourself, and your life is worth more to this unhappy Empire than his. To-night, to-morrow, at any moment, your son Andronicus may send the executioner here, and there will be an end of you and of many hopes. You must risk your younger boy's life for your cause. I see no other way.'
'The other way is this; I will stay here and risk my own. I would rather die ten deaths than let my child be tortured, blinded, and murdered.'
'Very well,' answered Zeno; 'then I must go.'
He let the knotted rope go over the sill again till it was all out, and he sat astride the window mullion ready to begin the descent.
'Cast off the rope when I whistle,' he said, 'and let it down by the line, and the line after it by the twine.'
He spoke to the big woman, who was the wife of the keeper, himself a trusted captain of veterans. She nodded by way of answer.
'For the last time,' Zeno said, looking towards Johannes, 'will you come with me? There is still time.'
The Emperor looked prematurely old in the faint light, and his figure was bent as he rested with one hand on the heavy table. His voice was weak too, as if he were very tired after some great effort.