"His name is Velasco."
"Ve—las—co?"
The syllables came through her lips like a breath. "No—no!" she cried suddenly, hoarsely, "I don't know him! I—I never saw him!"
She struggled with the lie bravely, turning white to the lips and gazing. "It was some one I knew in Russia; some one I—I loved." She sat up suddenly and wrung her hands together: "You don't believe me?"
"No," said the Kapellmeister, "You can't lie with eyes like that."
Kaya gazed at him desperately: "Don't tell him," she breathed, "Ah—don't let him know—I implore you!"
Ritter gave a sharp exclamation and caught the little figure in his arms. "She has fainted!" he cried, "Potztausend, what a brute I was!" He laid her back on the pillow and stood staring down at her, breathing heavily and clenching his hands.
"If I were Velasco!" he muttered, "Ah Gott—I am mad! Marta—Marta!"