“Generous man.”
Pelleas was watching her as a prisoner watches a judge. He had a great yearning to believe. Fear, anguish, anger, were in Igraine’s heart, but she showed none of the three as she stood forward and looked into the man’s eyes with a steadfastness no honour could gainsay.
“Pelleas!” she said.
“Girl!”
“Look into my eyes.”
He did so without flinching. Igraine took his sword and gave it naked into his hand.
“Listen! Gorlois told you a lie.”
“Igraine!”
“Do you believe me, Pelleas? If not, strike with the sword, for I will live no longer.”
The man gave a sudden cry, like one who leaps over a precipice, threw the sword far away into the grass, and falling on his knees, buried his face in his hands.