"Why?" asked Rita, in a hard voice.
"Oh—well—I've—I've—I've changed my mind," said Russell, in a trembling voice.
He began to be more afraid of Rita than ever.
"Ah!" said Rita. "It is so—very well. Now leest'n to me; look at me. What haf I done? I haf betray my maestro—I haf betray my friends: this castle is took; my friends are run away, many of them dead; their bodies are over there—they are dead. Who kill them? I—I the traidor! I the Judas! I betray! And why? I betray—because you tempt me! Do you know that? You tempt me! You ask me to helpa you! you promise me all the world! I helpa you! I make mysef a traidor, and now it haf come to this!
"Where are my friends?" continued Rita. "Gone! fled! dead! They sall haunt me—their ghosts—they sall call for venganza; and I haf make mysef a traidor to the friends that lofe me an' was kind! See me, what I am! You haf make me to this—you! you! you! What! do you think I sall let you turn false to me? No! nevaire! You sall be true to me—what—evaire! You haf promis to gif me all the world. You haf promis to gif me youselfa. You sall be what you say—'my man!' I sall haf the recompensa, if I die from remordimiento. If you be a traidor to me, I sall haf the venganza!"
During this wild harangue Rita seemed transported to fury—she seemed a madwoman. Russell trembled in every limb from sheer terror. He never had in all his life seen anything like this. His only hope now was to escape from her insane rage, no matter under whose protection.
At length she stopped and grew calmer. Then she said, in a low, stern voice:
"Now—will you come? Will you fly?"
Russell shuddered more than ever. Fly? Not he! She might tear him to pieces, but he would never fly with her. Fly? Why, it was impossible! He might, indeed, fly from her; but as to flying with her, that could not be thought of.
He shrunk back, trembling in every limb.