I stood gazing down at his thin face, which had ever looked so kindly into mine. My fingers played idly with the knot of my sword. "He will live?" I asked abruptly, harshly.
She started at the sudden question. But, brutal as it must have sounded, she was looking at me in pity so great and generous that it did not wound her. "Oh, yes," she said, her eyes still clinging to me. "I think he will live, thank Heaven!"
Thank Heaven! Ah, yes, thank Heaven!
I turned and went slowly toward the door. But before I reached it she was at my side, nay, was on her knees by me, clasping my hand, looking up to me with streaming eyes. "What are you going to do?" she cried, reading, I suppose, something in my face.
"I will see if Master Lindstrom cannot get better terms for us," I answered.
She rose, still detaining me. "You are sure?" she said, still eying me jealously.
"Quite sure," I answered, forcing a smile. "I will come back and report to you."
She let me go then, and I went out and joined Lindstrom on the staircase.
"Are you certain," I asked, speaking in a whisper, "that they will--that the town will keep its word and let the others go?"
"I am quite sure of it," he replied nodding. "They are Germans, and hard and pitiless, but you may trust them. So far I will answer for them."