'Why should I not?'
'Don't go away, for the love of God! If you have any affection for me, stay here.'
'I must go and pray, Bianca,' he exclaimed, carried away by excitement, not understanding his daughter's convulsive state.
'No, no—stay; I can't be left alone here, or I'll die of fright.' She spoke restlessly, quite pallid, her trembling hands still clutching her father's arm. She dared not look round. With her head down on her breast, she shut her eyes and bit her lips; while he, in his mad obstinacy, looked fixedly at his daughter, thinking he saw in her that spiritual disorder that must, by a fatality, go with the great miracles that have to do with the soul.
'How do you feel?' he questioned, very deeply and intensely, as if he wished to tear the truth from her soul.
'Stay here, stay here,' said she, her teeth chattering with terror.
'You see something?' he asked suggestively, with an intensity in his voice and will that was bound to influence that fragile feminine frame, broken as it was by the nervous shock.
'I am afraid to see—I am afraid!' she said, very low, leaning her forehead on her father's arm.
'Don't be afraid, dear; don't fear,' he whispered tenderly, paternally caressing her black hair.
'Be silent; keep silence,' said she, with a quick shiver. She continued to lean on his shoulder, hiding her face, shrinking all over. The Marquis put his arm round her waist, to keep up her quivering, feeble body; she hid more, clinging to her father as to a raft of safety. He sometimes felt her quiver all through her nerves.