The repetition of the word goaded him.
"Wait! Let me defend myself!"
But with a broken sound of protest she flung her hands over her ears.
"No! no! no!" she cried, vehemently. "There is no defence to make. There is no defence. You may leave the money of the sect, but you have stolen things that can never be replaced. Faith—hopes—ideals—" Her voice failed her.
"Mistaken faith—mistaken ideals—" He caught her wrists, drawing her hands downward.
But again she freed herself and confronted him with blazing eyes and a face marred by tears and emotion.
"Nothing is mistaken that lifts one up—that helps one to live. Oh, you don't knew what you have done! You don't know! I thought you so noble—so great—and now—"
"Now I am condemned unheard."
"Unheard? Do you think words could change anything? There is only one thing I wish for now—never, never to see you again as long as either of us live!" With each word her voice rose, and on the last it broke with an excited sob.
While she had been speaking the Prophet's face had become very pale. He turned to her now with a manner that was preternaturally quiet.