“How shall I show him that?” asked Camilla.
“By remaining here,” whispered Kindar. “You dare not think of leaving Berlin, for you know that the hour of your departure would be the hour of my death. You know it, for you have long known that I love you entirely, and that you owe me some recompense for the cruel pain I suffered when you married another.”
“And in what shall this recompense consist?” asked Camilla with a coquettish smile.
Baron von Kindar placing his arm around her, whispered: “By remaining here, adored Camilla, for my sake—in declaring to your hated husband that you will leave Berlin on no account—that your honor demands that you should prove to him in the face of his brutal commands, that these are no commands for you—and that you will follow your own will and inclination. Therefore you will remain in Berlin.”
“Will you write this letter for me?”
“If I do so, will you consent to remain here, and to open your door to me in spite of the orders of your husband, or the argus-eyes of your stepfather?”
“Write the letter, the rest will arrange itself,” said Camilla.
“I will write it to-night. May I bring it to you myself to-morrow morning?”
“If I say no, will you then be so kind as to give it to my maid?”
“I swear by my honor that I will only give the letter into your own hands.”