“And now?”
“I do not fear him,” she answered, smiling in the darkness. “Nor hate him. And for you, my lord, I am your wife and must do your bidding, whether I will or no. I have no choice.”
He was silent.
“Is that not so?” she asked.
He tried weakly to withdraw his hand.
But she clung to it. “I must bear your blows or your kisses. I must be as you will and do as you will, and go happy or sad, lonely or with you, as you will! As you will, my lord! For I am your chattel, your property, your own. Have you not told me so?”
“But your heart,” he cried fiercely, “is his! Your heart, which you told me in the meadow could never be mine!”
“I lied,” she murmured, laughing tearfully, and her hands hovered over him. “It has come back! And it is on my lips.”
And she leant over and kissed him. And Count Hannibal knew that he had entered into his kingdom, the sovereignty of a woman’s heart.
* * * * *