And he got both the hands and would not let them go.
A moment she thought with drooping head while her hands remained in his. Then she said:
“I have yielded. Oh, I do not know whether it is more to thy tempting than to the tempting of the dance. I yield. Take me. For this evening I am thine. And whatever follies I may commit—oh, I shall not be responsible when the orchestra opens! I shall be mad—abandoned—I feel it—know it—and thee—” she whispered with her head down—“thee—must thee have thy arm about me—to dance?”
“Undoubtedly!” cried John Rem, with savage decision.
“Oh—well—”
She sighed and woke and spoke more lightly:
“Whatever follies I may commit, thee will not desert me—but will be my true knight—and, at the end, I shall require myself of thee less my infirmity—all this does thee swear?”
He kissed the hilt of his sword.
“And afterward,” she went on, “we are never to see or speak to each other—oh, I could not—could not look thee in the face again after such wickedness!”
“Part? Never!” he cried.