"
"Ah, no, no!" she cried. "Not tonight!"
"I must go tonight, before more people have seen me. And how would you
have me stay, sweetheart, except--?"
"If I could come with you!" she whispered very low.
"My God!" said I roughly, "don't talk about that!" and I thrust her a
little back from me.
"Why not? I love you. You are as good a gentleman as the King!"
Then I was false to all that I should have held by. For I caught her in
my arms and prayed her, in words that I will not write, to come with me,
daring all Ruritania to take her from me. And for a while she listened,
with wondering, dazzled eyes. But as her eyes looked on me, I grew
ashamed, and my voice died away in broken murmurs and stammerings, and
at last I was silent.
She drew herself away from me and stood against the wall, while I sat
on the edge of the sofa, trembling in every limb, knowing what I had
done--loathing it, obstinate not to undo it. So we rested a long time.
"I am mad!" I said sullenly.
"I love your madness, dear," she answered.
Her face was away from me, but I caught the sparkle of a tear on her
cheek. I clutched the sofa with my hand and held myself there.
"Is love the only thing?" she asked, in low, sweet tones that seemed
to bring a calm even to my wrung heart.
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