He stood before her then bare-headed, and the water ran down upon the marble floor from his drenched clothes. He had neither hat nor cloak, and his dark hair was matted with the rain; but his face was radiant.
'You are frozen! you are soaked through and through!' she cried anxiously. 'You will get an illness, and I can do nothing! There is not even a little wine here to warm you.'
He smiled and shook his head.
'Never mind me,' he answered. 'Or let me take your hand in mine for a moment and the chill will pass!'
He put out his own, and when she felt that it was cold and wet, she took it in both of hers and tried to dry it, and chafed it between her palms, till he drew it away rather suddenly with a low laugh.
'Thank you,' he said. 'That is enough!'
'No, let me warm it better, or give me the other!'
'There is too much fire in your touch,' he answered. 'It burns through cold and wet. It would burn through ice itself!'
His tone made her forget her first anxiety for him; but she felt that she must explain why she was there, if only to quiet her own conscience.
'I would not have come if it had not rained,' she said, avoiding his eyes, 'and now I must not stay with you. As soon as it stops you must let yourself out and go away. It was only when I heard the rain——'