There was a brief pause during which a hectic flush chased the deep pallor from Otto's face, as he passively listened to the unaccustomed speech.
"Stephania," he repeated absently, and suffering his cloak to drop aside in his absorption, he revealed the richness and splendour of the garb beneath.
"The wife of the Senator of Rome!" Eckhardt supplemented sternly.
"And what if it be?" Otto responded with mingled petulancy and confusion. "What if the Senator's consort has vouchsafed me a private audience?"
"Are you beside yourself, King Otto? You venture into this place alone,—unattended,—to please some woman's whim,—a woman who is playing with you,—and will lead you to perdition?"
"How dare you arraign your King and his deeds?" Otto exclaimed fiercely.
"I am here to save you—from yourself! You know not the consequences of your deed!"
"Let them be what they will! I am here, to abide them!"
Eckhardt crossed his arms over his broad chest as he regarded the offspring of the vanquisher of the Saracens with mingled scorn and pity.
"The spell is heavy upon you, here among the crimson and purple flowers, where the Siren sings you to destruction," he said with forced calmness. "But you shall no longer listen to her voice, else you are lost. Otto,—Otto,—away with me! We will leave this accursed spot and Rome together—for ever! There is no other refuge for you from the spell of the Sorceress."