"Insolence! What do you mean by that?" she cried in confusion.
"In your heart you knew I was doing no wrong. You shielded me then as you have shielded me from the beginning."
"I don't see why I sit here and let you talk to me like that," she said, feeling the symptoms of collapse. "You have not been fair with me, Baldos. You are laughing at me now and calling me a witless little fool. You—you did something to-day that shakes my faith to the very bottom. I never can trust you again. Good heaven, I hate to confess to—to everyone that you are not honest."
"Your highness!" he implored, coming close to the chair and bending over her. "Before God, I am honest with you. Believe me when I say that I have done nothing to injure Graustark. I cannot tell you what it was that passed between Ravone and me, but I swear on my soul that I have not been disloyal to my oath. Won't you trust me? Won't you believe?" His breath was fanning her ear, his voice was eager; she could feel the intensity of his eyes.
"Oh, I don't—don't know what to say to you," she murmured. "I have been so wrought up with fear and disappointment. You'll admit that it was very suspicious, won't you?" she cried, almost pleadingly.
"Yes, yes," he answered. His hand touched her arm, perhaps unconsciously. She threw back her head to give him a look of rebuke. Their eyes met, and after a moment both were full of pleading. Her lips parted, but the words would not come. She was afterwards more than thankful for this, because his eyes impelled her to give voice to amazing things that suddenly rushed to her head.
"I want to believe you," she whispered softly.
"You must—you do! I would give you my life. You have it now. It is in your keeping, and with it my honor. Trust me, I beseech you. I have trusted you."
"I brought you here—" she began, defending him involuntarily. "But, Baldos, you forget that I am the princess!" She drew away in sudden shyness, her cheeks rosy once more, her eyes filling with the most distressingly unreasonable tears. He did not move for what seemed hours to her. She heard the sharp catch of his breath and felt the repression that was mastering some unwelcome emotion in him.
Lights were springing into existence in all parts of the park. Beverly saw the solitary window in the monastery far away, and her eyes fastened on it as if for sustenance in this crisis of her life—this moment of surprise—this moment when she felt him laying hands upon the heart she had not suspected of treason. Twilight was upon them; the sun had set and night was rushing up to lend unfair advantage to the forces against which they were struggling. The orchestra in the castle was playing something soft and tender—oh, so far away.