"It is you who forced me to it against my will.—I took up your gauntlet, stung by your biting ridicule, goaded by your insults to a weak and senseless folly."
"Then you acknowledge yourself vanquished?"
"I am not vanquished. What I undertake, I carry through—if I wish to carry it through."
"It has to my mind ceased to be a matter of choice with you," drawled the Chamberlain. "In three days Eckhardt's fate will be sealed,—as far as this world of ours is concerned. You see, your chances are small and you have no time to lose."
"Day after to-morrow—holy Virgin—so soon?" gasped Theodora.
"You have inadvertently called on one whose calls you have not of late returned," sneered the Chamberlain, with insolent nonchalance.
"Day after to-morrow," Theodora repeated, stroking her brow with one white hand. "Day after to-morrow!"
"Do not despair," Benilo drawled sardonically. "Much can happen in two days."
She did not seem to hear him. Her thoughts seemed to roam far away. Then they returned to earth. For a moment she studied the man before her in silence, then dropping the whip, she stretched out her hand to him.
"Release me from this wager," she pleaded, "and all shall be forgotten and forgiven."