Almost frozen with horror Stephania had listened to the voice she loved so well. The card she had played, the appeal to his generous nature, had lost. She might have foreseen it. But her wondrous beauty still exercised its fatal spell. The moments were flying. She must save Crescentius from Eckhardt's wrath.
"You once told me that you loved me," she spoke with choked, dry throat. "You accuse me of having deceived you—ah! how little versed you are in reading a woman's heart!"
And approaching him as of old, she took his hands into hers.
"What do you mean?" Otto replied, while her touch sent the hot blood hurtling through his veins. "Some new conceit, to gain your end?"
She shook her head, while she gazed despairingly toward the Senator's last defence.
"This is not the time," she gasped. "On every moment hangs a life! Otto, save him! Save him for my sake! Can you not see that I love you? Think you, else I should be here? Can you not see that this is my last atonement? Oh, do not let me be guilty of this too! Save him,—save him, ere it is too late!" she moaned, kneeling without releasing his hands, on which she rested her head. "Save him,—save him, King Otto—or his blood be on your head!"
"On my head? On my head?" exclaimed Otto. "Heaven that has witnessed your unfathomable treachery can never ratify this invocation! Never! Never!"
She glanced up despairingly.
"Otto—he knows all! All! I saw it in his looks—though he never spoke.—He knows—that—I love you!"
"Then you do love me?" Otto replied with large wondering eyes.