"Surely, you do not mean to hold me to the wager?"
He smiled sardonically.
"Considering the risk I run in this affair—why not? Eckhardt is a man of action—so is Benilo,—who has performed the rare miracle of compelling the grave to return to his arms Ginevra, a queen indeed,—of her kind."
Surely some extraordinary change had taken place in the bosom of the woman before him. She received the thrust without parrying it.
"I see," he continued after a brief pause, "Eckhardt proves too mighty a rock, even for Theodora to move!"
"His will is strong—but all night in his lonely cell he called Ginevra's name."
"You are well informed. Why not take the veil yourself,—since a life of serene placidity seems so suddenly to your taste?"
"And where is it written that I shall not?" she questioned, looking him full in the eye. Benilo winced. If she would but quarrel. He felt insecure in her present mood.
"Here—on the tablets of my memory, where a certain wager is recorded," he replied.
She turned upon him angrily.