But I remained unmoved. “Are you so eager to be rid of me?” I demanded coldly.
She did not reply; her hand fell from my arm, and I thought I heard her sob. My mood changed; I was both hurt and angry now.
“So,” I said, “you cannot wait for me to go—you must drive me away! I am your husband, madame, what if—after all—I pursue my claim upon you? What,” I went on steadily, “if I will not give you up?”
She still kept silence, but I saw her hands trembling, as she drew her hood closer.
“You are eager to cast me off, my princess,” I cried angrily, “but I am your lawful husband. You married me—not Kurakin—in the palace chapel. To whom, then, do you owe the first allegiance—your father or your husband?”
“Ah, monsieur,” she replied softly, “’tis a question that has cost me many a vigil, many a prayer! My father has little love for me, I fear, but I am still his daughter, and I would fain obey him, but——”
Her faltering voice quivered, and choked with a sob. I took a quick step nearer, and swiftly, but gently, I pushed back that hood, and looked into a pale, downcast face—not the face of the princess, but the woman.
“Daria,” I said, speaking as softly as she, and my voice broke too, with emotion, “is it possible—do you care for me?”
For a moment there was a pause, and there was the madness of suspense, and then she raised her head with her old dignity of mien and looked at me with radiant eyes.
“From the first, I think, a little—monsieur,” she murmured, “but—had I said so, they would have killed you!”