Otto remained standing. His face was pale, but no trace of fear appeared thereon.
"I trust you."
"I am a Roman,—and your enemy! I am the enemy of your people!"
"I trust you!"
"Suppose I had lured you hither to end for ever this unbearable state?"
"I trust you!"
Stephania's eyes cowered beneath Otto's gaze. Rising abruptly she averted her head, but every trace of colour had left her face as she raised the veil. Then she turned slowly and extended her hand. Otto grasped it, pressing it to his lips in an ecstasy of joy, then he drew her down to the seat she had abandoned, kneeling by her side.
For a moment she gazed at him thoughtfully.
"What do you want of me?" she then asked abruptly.
"I would have you be my friend," he stammered, idol-worship in his eyes.