"No—no! I can bear all the rest, but not this—not this! Get up off your knees Prince. Leave me—leave me for a little while—I must think; I must be alone and think."
Her hair sparkled and gleamed against the cushions. One hand was still clasped to her breast. He stooped over her, panting.
"Come and dance with me, Kaya—dearest. You are well now; your cheeks are like roses. The wine is so strong when one is giddy. Let me put my arms about you—come! I love you. Ah, your hair is like a halo; your lips are trembling. The tears in your eyes are like dew, Kaya."
The Countess rose slowly to her feet. "Yes, you are like your father already," she cried, "Already you are cowardly. You are strong and you think I am weak." Her head was thrown back; she measured him scornfully, "Go and dance, sir. Leave me, I tell you."
The Prince held out his hands. "Leave you!" he cried, "No, Kaya, no. Come and dance."
"Leave me—leave me."
He came nearer: "Are you still faint? Will you rest and let me come back? When? How soon?"
"Leave me."
He took out his watch: "Nearly midnight," he cried, "then the Duke will return. When the clock strikes, Kaya, it will be our dance. You will waltz with me then—once more? As soon as the clock strikes?"
"Leave me."