Helia was not suffering. To die was nothing,—but to fall, struck from behind by such a man!
“If you had been there, Phil,” Helia said, speaking low, “you would have protected me, would you not? Oh, with you I should fear nothing. Give me your hand and stay with me!”
Phil, with downcast eyes full of tears, took her hand.
“Look me in the face; why do you lower your eyes, Phil?” she said, so that he alone could hear her. She added, with an indescribable regret in her voice: “Have I ever reproached you? Look me in the face, as in the old days! I wish you to be happy. I do not wish you to be sad!”
From the city came a confused murmur, like the noise of the sea; and then there were long moments of silence. The nobles had not dared to enter the hall. The people’s deep anxiety was making itself felt. Suzanne, meanwhile, was arranging the cushions under Helia’s head. The duke had gone a little away.
“Yes,” he was saying to himself, “Miss Rowrer will understand the sacrifice I am making for her. I fail in my word, it is true, but she will be grateful to me for not having made Helia her rival. As to the people, Miss Rowrer’s millions will make them forget my perjury.”
Ethel, with Caracal at her elbow, gave to a servant the basin of water and bloody cloths. Impassive as the marble ancestresses, she turned her clear eyes on Phil and the duke.
“Phil,” Helia continued, as she pressed his hand, “you promised me once—do you remember?—when you loved me, in the old days? I understand, many things have passed since; and you are no longer the same man. Come here, Phil, nearer, nearer! I want to tell a secret in your ear. I have loved only you, Phil; every day I have waited for you, and you never came! I was mad, I know; it was impossible! But when one is young one is ignorant—and I believed you! Now you love another. Phil, I forgive you; but leave your hand in mine.”
Phil was silent and red with shame. Ah, indeed, he remembered! Helia felt his heart beating in the hand which pressed her own. An intense emotion overpowered him. He had the fearful calm which goes before a storm. Neither the duke nor Phil spoke, motionless, by the side of Helia, who was resting tranquilly, while they made a room ready for her.
“You can get up and go to it by yourself,” said Suzanne. “You’re safe. You haven’t lost much blood—Socrate’s blow missed!”