"Is a woman's friendship so rare a commodity, that you come to me?" she replied, drawing her hand from him.
"I have never known woman's love nor friendship,—and it is yours I want."
Stephania drew a long breath. Truly,—it required no effort on her part to lead him on. He made her task an easy one. Yet there rose in her heart a spark of pity. The complete trust of this boy-king was to the wife of Crescentius a novel sensation in the atmosphere of doubt and suspicion in which she had grown up. It was almost a pity to shatter the temple in which he had placed her as goddess.
The mood held sway but a moment, then with a cry of delirious gayety, she wrote the word "Friendship" rapidly on the water.
"Look," she said, "scarcely a ripple remains! That is the end. Let us but add another word, 'Farewell'—and let the trace it shall leave tell when we shall meet again."
The words died on Otto's lips. He could not fathom the lightning change which had come over her. With mingled sadness and passion he gazed upon the lovely face, so pale and cold.
"Let us not part thus," he stammered.
Stephania had risen abruptly, shaking herself free of his kneeling form.
"What is it all to lead to?" she questioned.
Otto rose slowly to his feet. Reeling as if stunned by a blow, he staggered after her.