Sabran entered and closed the door behind him. His face was bloodless, but he carried himself erect despite the sense of faintness which assailed him.
'You know who I am?' he said simply, without preface or supplication.
Vàsàrhely gave a gesture of assent.
'How did you know it?'
'I remembered,' answered the other.
There was a moment's silence. If Vàsàrhely could have withered to the earth by a gaze of scorn the man before him, Sabran would have fallen dead. As it was his eyes dropped beneath the look, but the courage and the dignity of his attitude did not alter. He had played his part of a great noble for so long that it had ceased to be assumption and had become his nature.
'You will tell her?' he said, and his voice did not tremble, though his very soul seemed to swoon within him.
'I shall not tell her!'
Vàsàrhely spoke with effort; his words were hoarse and stern.
'You will not?'