“You knew!” she cried, clutching his arm wildly, and looking into his face. “Ah! yes, Jack. You—you knew the truth. You must have known. I could not conceal it from you.”
“What?” he asked, his hand upon her slim shoulder.
“That—that I loved you,” she burst forth. But next second, as if ashamed of her confession, she covered her face with her hands and sobbed bitterly.
Tenderly he placed his strong arm about her neck as her head fell upon her shoulder. For a moment he held her closely to him. Then, in a faltering voice, he said:
“Angelica, I know that our love is mutual, that is why we must part.”
“No! no!” she cried through her tears. “No. Do not leave me here alone, Jack! If you go from Florence I must return to the hateful semi-imprisonment of the Palace at Sarajevo among those dull boors with whom I have not the least in common.”
“But, Angelica, I am in honour bound not to compromise you further. Your enemies are all talking, and inventing disgraceful scandals that have already reached the Prince’s ears. Hence his spies are here, watching all our movements.”
“Spies! Yes, Bosnia is full of them!” she cried angrily. “And Ferdinand sends them here to spy upon me!” and she clenched her tiny white hands resentfully.
“They are here, hence we must part. We must face our misfortune bravely; but for your sake I must leave your side, though heaven knows what this decision has cost me—my very life and soul.”
She raised her head, and with her clear blue eyes looked into his face.