CHAPTER VIII.
Alone with Greta, Paul kissed her fervently, and his head fell on her shoulder. The strong man was as feeble as a child now. He was prostrate. "The black lie is like poison in my veins!" he said.
"What is it?" said Greta, and she tried to soothe him.
"A lie more foul than man ever uttered before—more cruel, more monstrous."
"What is it, dearest?" said Greta again, with her piteous, imploring face close to his.
"I know it's a lie. My heart tells me it is a lie. The very stones cry out that it is a lie!"
"Tell me what it is," said Greta, and she embraced him tenderly.
But even while he was struggling with the poison of one horrible word, it was mastering him. He put his wife from him with a strong shudder, as if her proximity stung him.
Her bosom heaved. She looked appealingly into his face.