"Oh, yes, oh, yes!" Eugenia sobbed despairingly. "He is capable of it."

"I do not believe it," said the Princess, and, sitting down beside her,
she lifted the forsaken little bride into her arms as if she were a
child, dried her wet cheeks with the folds of her own white mantle,
stroked her burning lids, smoothed her tangled hair, pressed the
little head to her soft bosom, and rocked gently to and fro, saying
soothingly: "Everything will be well again, little one, and soon; for
he does love you. That is certain."

A suppressed sob and a slight shake of the head said, No!

"Certain! I do not know, nor do I wish to know, what that woman hissed
into your ear. But I saw how it wounded you, like a poisoned arrow.
Whatever it may be--"

"I will never, never, never tell!" the girl fairly shrieked.

"I do not wish to know, I told you. Whatever his guilt may be, the
Christians have a beautiful saying: 'Love beareth all things.'"

"Love beareth all things," murmured Eugenia. "But, of course, love
only. Tell me, little sister, do you really love him?"

The weeping girl, springing from the Princess's clasping arms, stood
erect, and stretching both arms wide exclaimed, in a low tone, "Alas!
Unspeakably!" and threw herself again on her friend's breast. Her large
soft eyes sparkled through her tears as she went on in a low whisper,
as though fearing that strangers might hear in the secluded chamber:
"That is my sweet secret,--the secret of my shame." She smiled
radiantly. "I loved him long ago, I believe even as a child. When he
came to my father to buy grain for his villas, he lifted me in his
strong arms like a feather, until I--gradually--forbade it. The older I
grew, the more ardently I loved, and therefore the more timidly I
avoided him. Oh, do not betray it as long as you live--when he
seized me, bore me away in the public street--fiercely as my wrath, my
honor rebelled, deeply as I suffered from pity for my father--yet
yet--yet! While struggling desperately in his iron arms, screaming for
help--yet!--in the midst of all the mortal fright and anger, there
blazed here in my heart, secretly, a warm, happy, blissful emotion: 'He
loves me; he tortures me from love!' And, amid all the keen suffering,
I was happy, nay, proud, that he dared so bold a deed for love of me!
Can you understand, can you forgive that?"

Hilda smiled bewitchingly: "Forgive? No! I am utterly bewildered with
sheer pleasure. Forgive _me_, little one.