Haco stared at the King, as if he thought him demented.
"It was the order for the Senator's execution, which the Chamberlain placed in Eckhardt's hand," he replied, "to take place immediately upon his capture."
"Ah! This is your work then!" Stephania broke the terrible silence, which hung over them like suspended destinies,—creeping towards Otto and pointing to the ramparts of Castel San Angelo, on which the imperial standard was being hoisted. "This you have done to me!—You have lied to me, detaining me here when I should have been with him,—whose dying hour I have filled with a despair that all eternity cannot alleviate,—let me go—I tell you, let me go! Fiend! traitor,—let me go!"
She fought him in wild despair.
Otto had barred her way. Releasing her, he looked straight into her eyes.
"Your own heart tells you, Stephania, this is the work of a traitor,—not mine!"
She gazed at him one moment. She knew his words to be true. But she would not listen to the voice of reason, when her conscience doubly smote her.
"Let me go!" she shrieked. "Let me go! My place is by the side of him you have foully slain,—murdered—after luring me away from him in his dying hour."
"You know not what you say, Stephania. Your grief has maddened you! Is not the word of the King assurance enough, that he himself is the victim of some as yet unfathomable deceit? By the memory of my mother I swear to you—I never wrote that order! Remain here until I hear from Eckhardt,—your safety—"
"Who tells you that I wish to be saved?" she cried like a lioness at bay. "Remain here with you, whose hands are stained with his blood? Not another moment! You have no claim on Stephania! A crimson gulf has swallowed up the past and his shade divides us in death as it has divided us in life! You shall never boast that you have conquered the wife of the Senator of Rome!"