"No use," he said softly. "We can do nothing. He will die."
Again Wolfgar's eyes opened. "Die—of course." He tried to raise one of his burned hands, but dropped it back. "Die? Yes—of course. In just a moment...." His eyes, already dulled, swung about. "Who is that—crying? There's no need—to cry."
It was little Elza beside me, struggling to suppress her sobs.
Wolfgar's slow, labored voice demanded: "That isn't—my Princess Maida crying—is it? I don't want—her to cry——"
"No," said Georg gently. "Maida is here—right here by you. She isn't crying."
His gaze found Maida's face. "Oh, yes—I can see you—Princess Maida. You're not crying—that's good. There's nothing to—cry about."
He seemed for a moment to gather a little strength; he moved his head and saw Tarrano standing there behind us.
"Master?" He used the old term with a whimsical smile. "I—called you that—for a long time, didn't I? You have a right to consider me a traitor——"
"A spy," said Tarrano very gently. "Not a traitor. That you would have been had you served me—a traitor to your Princess."
Wolfgar's head tried to nod; relief was on his face. "I'm—glad you understand. I would not want to die—having you think harshly of me——"