The monk nodded feebly.
Eckhardt's breath came hard. His breast heaved, as if it must burst and his hand shook so violently that some of the hot pitch from the taper struck the prisoner on the shoulder. He writhed with a groan.
"What prompted the hellish deceit?" Eckhardt continued. "Did she not have my love?"
The monk shook his head.
"It was not enough. It was not enough!"
"What more had I to give?"
"Marozia's inheritance—the emperor's tomb!"
"Marozia's inheritance?" Eckhardt repeated, like one in a dream. "The emperor's tomb? What madness is this? She never hinted at a wish unfulfilled."
"She asked you never to lift the veil from her past!"
The monk's words fell like a thunderbolt on Eckhardt's head.