Her eyes opened—they were not black, as he had thought the night before, but curiously dark blue, almost purple—and she looked up into young Zuan's face as he knelt above her.
"I would not—have you think me, lord—a weakling," she said, whispering. "It was a—moment's pain. My knees were a little cramped. Will you forgive me, lord?"
"Forgive you?" said he. "You have saved my life. Whether that was worth the saving or not I do not know, but you have saved it, and you have borne great suffering that I might sleep in comfort. Forgive you?"
She lay quite still on the turf, looking up at him, and the old, paralyzing weakness began to creep upon Zuan's limbs, the old, strange shaking came to his heart.
"I would do it, lord," said she, "many, many times over for your sake." A warm flush spread up into her throat and over her cheeks.
"I do not understand," said Zuan, stammering, and dully he thought how beautiful she was, lying there still before him, how young and slender and exquisite, this woman of abomination. "We are enemies," said he, "the bitterest of enemies. I came here to cleanse Arbe of you, to set your head on a spear before the count's castle for men to revile and spit upon."
"Yes, lord," said the woman of abomination, whispering, and that rosy flush died away from cheeks and neck, leaving her pale again.
"Last night," said he, "you had me in your power. Your men could have taken me alive or slain me very easily. Yet you would not let me face them. Even when I threatened to kill you you would not stand out of my way."
"You had had me in your power first, lord," said she. "But you were kind to me. You saved me from great shame, and covered me with your cloak."
"That was nothing," said young Zuan. "I did not know that you were the princess Yaga. But you knew that I was leader of the force which had come to recover Arbe from you. Why did you save me, princess? Why are you here with me now in hiding? Why are you not in the castle where you should be?"