"But he may--that is the danger. Promise me not to be angry--"
"How can I promise that, if he insults you?"
"No, I did not mean that exactly. Promise that you will not forget everything and raise your hand against him. You see I know you would."
"No, I will not raise my hand against him. That was in the promise I made you. And as for being angry, I will do my best to keep my temper."
"I know you will. Now you must go. Good-by, love! Good-by, for a little while."
"For such a little time shall we say good-by? I hate the word; it makes me think of the day when I left you last."
"How can I tell what may happen to you when you are out of my sight?" asked Dolores. "And what is 'good-by' but a blessing each prays for the other? That is all it means. It does not mean that we part for long, love. Why, I would say it for an hour! Good-by, dear love, good-by!"
She put up her face to kiss him, and it was so full of trust and happiness that the word lost all the bitterness it has gathered through ages of partings, and seemed, what she said it was, a loving blessing. Yet she said it very tenderly, for it was hard to let him go even for less than an hour. He said it, too, to please her; but yet the syllables came mournfully, as if they meant a world more than hers, and the sound of them half frightened her, so that she was sorry she had asked him for the word.
"Not so!" she cried, in quick alarm. "You are not keeping anything from me? You are only going to the next room to meet the King--are you sure?"
"That is all. You see, the word frightened you. It seems such a sad word to me--I will not say it again."