"
"Prince Camillo," said the Commandant, quietly, "I am here to-night
in the strict service of my Republic, to do my best for her: but I
warn you that if you a second time address your sister in that tone I
shall reserve the right to remember it later as a plain Genoese
gentleman. Sir," he faced about and addressed me again, "am I to
understand that you accept?"
I looked at the Princess. She met my look proudly, with eyes set in
a face pale as death. I could not for the life of me read whether
they forbade me or implored. They seemed to forbid, protest . . .
and yet (the bliss of it!) for one half instant they had also seemed
to implore. Thank God at least they did not scorn!
"Princess," I said, "these men propose to do me an infinite honour--
an honour far above my deserving--and to kill me while my heart yet
beats with the pride of it. Yet say to me now if I must renounce it,
and I will die bearing you no grudge. Take thought, not of me, but
of yourself only, and sign to me if I must renounce."
Still she eyed me, pale and unblinking. Her bosom panted, and for a
moment she half-raised her hand; but dropped it again.
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