"And she?" the question came almost in a whisper. "Do you know her?"
Crescentius breathed hard. For a moment he closed his eyes, praying inwardly for courage. At last he replied with seeming indifference:
"I have known her long. She is loyal to Rome and true to herself."
"Her name?" she insisted.
"Stephania."
A wild laugh resounded in the chamber. Its echoes seemed to mock those two, who faced each other, trembling, colourless.
"That was Benilo's advice."
Like a knife-thrust the words from Stephania's lips pierced the heart of the Senator of Rome.
Stephania stared at him in such bewilderment, as if she thought him mad. But when he remained silent, when she read in his downcast eyes the mute confirmation of his speech, she sprang from her couch, facing him in the whole splendour of her beauty.
"Surely you are jesting, my lord, or else you rave, you are mad?" she cried. "Or can it be, that my ears tinkle with some mockery of the fiend? Speak! You have not said it! You did not! You dared not."