“Everything, lord.” The words would hardly make themselves audible.
“What were we talking about?”
“About my brother Romanos—how he has given himself over to an evil witch of a Latin woman, who has made him forget his own house and his duty to it.”
“But what affair is it of yours?” Prince Christodoridi was puzzled by the warmth of personal feeling in the answer.
“Is it not the affair of all when one of us disgraces himself, lord?” Danaë was regaining her courage now that discovery had not been followed by instant death.
“No, insolent one! Has your mother not taught you yet that it is no affair of a woman what any of her men choose to do? Then you will have time to learn it in solitude here while Petros returns to his master.”
Danaë grew pale, for there were dreadful tales of the dungeons under the tower, but she answered undauntedly, “So be it, lord. If the guilty one is punished, I shall but rejoice.”
“And what would you do to the guilty one?” asked her father curiously.
Her eyes flashed. “Lord, I would tear her from that fair house whither she draws my brother to his destruction, and she should never see it again.”
“So the woman is the guilty one!” said Prince Christodoridi with grim amusement. “And what then, my lady?”