Then she kissed the face so pale against the gold, and knelt again.
But when she had risen, and before she could leave the space by the altar, Siur had stepped up to her, and seized her hurriedly, folding both his arms about her; she let herself be held there, her bosom against his; then he held her away from him a little space, holding her by the arms near the shoulder; then he took her hands and laid them across his shoulders, so that now she held him.
And they said nothing; what could they say? Do you know any word for what they meant?
And the father and brother stood by, looking quite awe-struck, more so they seemed than by her solemn oath. Till Siur, raising his head from where it lay, cried out aloud:
‘May God forgive me as I am true to her! hear you, father and brother?’
Then said Cissela: ‘May God help me in my need, as I am true to Siur.’
And the others went, and they two were left standing there alone, with no little awe over them, strange and shy as they had never yet been to each other. Cissela shuddered, and said in a quick whisper: ‘Siur, on your knees! and pray that these oaths may never clash.’
‘Can they, Cissela?’ he said.
‘O love,’ she cried, ‘you have loosed my hand; take it again, or I shall die, Siur!’
He took both her hands, he held them fast to his lips, to his forehead; he said: ‘No, God does not allow such things: truth does not lie; you are truth; this need not be prayed for.’