"I do not wish to know, I told you. Whatever his guilt may be, the Christians have a beautiful saying: 'Love beareth all things.'"
"Love beareth all things," murmured Eugenia. "But, of course, love only. Tell me, little sister, do you really love him?"
The weeping girl, springing from the Princess's clasping arms, stood erect, and stretching both arms wide exclaimed, in a low tone, "Alas! Unspeakably!" and threw herself again on her friend's breast. Her large soft eyes sparkled through her tears as she went on in a low whisper, as though fearing that strangers might hear in the secluded chamber: "That is my sweet secret,--the secret of my shame." She smiled radiantly. "I loved him long ago, I believe even as a child. When he came to my father to buy grain for his villas, he lifted me in his strong arms like a feather, until I--gradually--forbade it. The older I grew, the more ardently I loved, and therefore the more timidly I avoided him. Oh, do not betray it as long as you live--when he seized me, bore me away in the public street--fiercely as my wrath, my honor rebelled, deeply as I suffered from pity for my father--yet yet--yet! While struggling desperately in his iron arms, screaming for help--yet!--in the midst of all the mortal fright and anger, there blazed here in my heart, secretly, a warm, happy, blissful emotion: 'He loves me; he tortures me from love!' And, amid all the keen suffering, I was happy, nay, proud, that he dared so bold a deed for love of me! Can you understand, can you forgive that?"
Hilda smiled bewitchingly: "Forgive? No! I am utterly bewildered with sheer pleasure. Forgive me, little one. I had not expected from you so much genuine, ardent woman's love! But, you obstinate little creature, you hypocrite,--why did you so long conceal and deny your feelings toward him from your father and your friend?"
"Why? That is perfectly plain," exclaimed the girl, indignantly. "From embarrassment and shame. It is terrible, it is a frightful disgrace, for a young girl, instead of hating the man who seized her in the public market-place, and even kissed her at the same time, to love him. It is utterly abominable."
Half weeping, half smiling, she hid her face on her friend's breast, tenderly kissing a little gold cross that she wore round her neck attached to a thin silver chain, and lovingly pressing to her bosom a bronze semi-circle, inscribed with runes, that she wore on her arm.
"His betrothal and, alas, his marriage gift," she sighed.
"Yes, you love him deeply," said Hilda, smiling. "And he? He sent my Gibamund to me with frequent messages of the anguish he was suffering, and he was as grateful as a blind man who has been restored to sight when I told him that he was indeed wholly unworthy of you; but if he really desired to win you for his wife, he must ask you if you would wed him, and then beg your father for your hand. This simple bit of wisdom made him as happy as a child. He followed the counsel, and now--"
"Now?" Eugenia interrupted, in almost comical indignation. "Now he has not been seen at all for nearly three days. Who knows how far away he may be?"
"Not very far," cried Hilda, laughing; "he is just riding into the courtyard below."