“Roman, now that you see her again, do you still love her as much as of old time?”
He took no note and she repeated the question. Then he answered:
“Why do you trouble me with such idle words. Once she was a woman to be won, now she is a spirit to be worshipped.”
“Woman or spirit, or woman and spirit, beware how you deal with her, Roman,” snarled Nehushta still more fiercely, “or——” and she let her hand fall upon the knife that was hidden in her robe.
“Peace, peace!” said Marcus, and as he spoke the procession came to a halt before his windows. “How weary she is, and sad,” he went on speaking to himself. “Her heart seems crushed. Oh! that I must stay here and see her thus, who dare not show myself! If she could but know! If she could but know!”
Nehushta thrust him aside and took his place. Fixing her eyes upon Miriam she made some effort of the will, so fierce and concentrated that beneath the strain her body shook and quivered. See! Her thought reached the captive, for she looked up.
“Stand to one side,” she whispered to Marcus, then unlatched the shutters and slowly pushed them open. Now between her and the air was nothing but the silken curtains. Very gently she parted these with her hands, for some few seconds suffering her face to be seen between them. Then laying her fingers on her lips she drew back and they closed again.
“It is well,” she said, “she knows.”
“Let her see me also,” said Marcus.
“Nay, she can bear no more. Look, look, she faints.”