"OSRA ... SUDDENLY THREW HERSELF ON THE FLOOR AT HIS FEET, CRYING, 'FORGIVE ME! FORGIVE ME!'"
She looked at him and saw the sad joy in his eyes, an exultation over what had been that what was could not destroy; and she knew that the vision was still with him, though his love was dead. Suddenly he seemed to her a man she also might love, and for whom she also, if need be, might gladly die. Yet not because she loved him, for she was asking still in wonder: "What is this love?"
"Madam, farewell," said he again; and, kneeling before her, he kissed her hand.
"I carry the body of my love," he went on, "back with me to my home, there to mourn for her; and I shall come no more to Strelsau."
Osra bent her eyes on his face as he knelt, and presently she said to him in a whisper that was low for awe, not shame:
"You heard what she bade me do?"
"Yes, madam, I know her wish."