"But then these last repent so bitterly, and are so ashamed of themselves."
"Oh, as for that, he will be ashamed of himself too." Then, suddenly growing grave, she adds, "I should be very sorry to have----"
"To have any one hear of his disappointed hopes," Harry interposes, with a degree of malicious triumph in his tone. "Do not fear; we will keep his secret."
"Good-night!" She takes up her candlestick, which she had put down on the table beside which they are standing, and turns towards the winding staircase.
"Zdena!" Harry whispers, softly.
"What is it?"
"Nothing: only--is there really not a regret in your heart for the wealth you have rejected?"
She shakes her head slowly, as if reflecting. "No," she replies: "what good would it have done me? I could not have enjoyed it." Then she suddenly blushes crimson, and, turning away from him, goes to the staircase.
"Zdena!" he calls again; "Zdena!" But the white figure has vanished at the turn of the steps, and he is alone. For a while he stands gazing into the darkness that has swallowed her up. "God keep you!" he murmurs, tenderly, and finally betakes himself to his room, with no thought, however, of going to bed.