“You wanted to kill him.” These words were said half as a question, half as a statement, while she looked searchingly into my eyes, as if she would read my very soul.
“Never!” I said emphatically.
“He does not believe that, and considers you his enemy. You have twice struck down him whom no one has conquered.”
“Once to save his life; once to save my own. I loved him from the moment I first saw him.”
Again she looked long at me, then she said: “He does not believe you, and I am his sister. Does your mouth pain?”
“Not now.”
“Can you swallow?”
“I can try. Will you give me a drink of water?”
“Yes, and some to bathe in; we will bring it to you.”
She went away with the old woman, leaving me to wonder why Winnetou, who considered me his enemy and utterly refused to credit any assurance to the contrary, should send me his own sister as nurse.