“It is you that are cruel. You must go.”
“Ah, think how you say that. You are my queen, my goddess; I must obey you. I am to go? Tell me! Tell me!”
She wavered. She was a woman, circumscribed, starved of love and joy. They were within her reach now, could she keep back her hand from taking them? Madness, she kept telling herself. Yes, but what a delicious madness. The strain was at breaking point, then suddenly it was relieved. Her innate resolution and pride came to her rescue. With an intense effort she put forth all her strength blindly in a last effort, and such was her power of repression that the struggle, the desperate crisis were but faintly indicated.
“Yes; you are to go.”
For very chivalry he could urge her no farther. A shadow passed across the chapel. “Princess!” Minna’s voice was heard in a low call of warning.
The Princess turned apprehensively. “I must go. Good-bye,” she said.
She gave him her hand. He seized it in both of his and raised it with a swift passionate action to his lips. “It is indeed farewell, dear Princess? I am to go?”
She did not speak; he raised his head and looked in her face for an answer, still keeping her hand in his. Impulsively, before he could realize the action, she had bent forward and touched his cheek with her lips. “Stay,” she said, “my love.”
“Princess, are you mad? You will be missed,” Minna cried, suddenly appearing. “Run for your life! I will let Herr von Bertheim out.”
The hastening push she gave him seemed to wake him from a delicious dream. Next moment he was outside the chapel and alone.