"I saw it by the light of a lantern, just when I put you into the boat. His face is handsome—I never saw one more so. One might think him a king."
"Is that all? Is he young?"
"About thirty years old."
"What is his language?"
"Free Bohemian—the true tongue of a Christian. He only spoke three or four words to me. What a pleasure it was to hear the dear old tongue, had he not said 'Do not kill him, it is useless.' Ah! he was mistaken. It was necessary!"
"What did he say, when you adopted that terrible alternative?"
"I think, may God pardon me! that he did not see it. He threw himself on the bottom of the boat, where you lay as if you were dead; apparently fearing some injury might befall you, he covered you with his body; and when we were on the open water and safe, he lifted you up, wrapped you in a cloak he had brought apparently for the purpose, and pressed you against his heart as a mother would press a child. He seems very fond of you, signora, and you must know him."
"Perhaps I do; but I have not been able to see his face."
"It is strange that he conceals himself from you. Nothing astonishes me in those people, however."
"What people?"