In his vehemence he had grasped her arm in the very place where Royda’s rapier had pierced it, and she had given a cry of pain.
“Nothing,” she replied, quickly recovering herself. “You hurt me.”
“Surely not?” Then in a fresh access of suspicion he asked: “You have wounded your arm, too?”
“No—yes, it is tender,” she answered in distress.
He looked at her sadly, despairingly, yet with the gentleness of a noble-minded man who would spare her pain in the parting which now seemed inevitable.
“If I stay longer I shall hurt you more, it seems,” he said. “We had better say good-bye.”
“For how long?” The question was forced from her, almost piteously.
“Till I am worthy of your confidence as well as your love,” he answered coldly. “Till I know how far Count Zarka’s presumption is justified.”
“Osbert!” she cried. In another minute he might have learned the truth, but Harlberg came in and cut short the word that was on her lips. She felt faint with her weakness, bewildered by the cruelty of her fate.
Her step-father asked her to fetch a book from her room. As she went the great strain she had undergone and the pain of her wound brought on a slight faintness. When she had recovered sufficiently to return to the room, Von Tressen was not there.