There was a breathless silence, then Eckhardt said:
"I have sought you long—everywhere. How came you in this plight?"
The monk looked up. In his eyes there was a great fear.
"Pity—pity!" he muttered, vainly endeavouring to raise himself.
Eckhardt's stern gaze was his sole reply.
The ensuing silence seemed to both an eternity.
The monk could not bear the Margrave's gaze, and had closed his eyes.
"What of Ginevra?"
Slowly the words fell from Eckhardt's lips.
The monk groaned. His limbs writhed and strained against the chains that fettered him to the rock. But he made no reply.