"A moment, sir," said I, and, laying two fingers on the Commandant's
arm, I nodded towards the bole of a stout pine-tree across the
clearing. "Will that distance suit you?"
He nodded in reply and as I swung on my heel touched my arm in his
turn.
"You will do me the honour, sir, to shake hands?"
"Most willingly, sir." I shook hands with him, casting, as I did so,
a glance over my shoulder at the Prince and Father Domenico, who hung
back in the doorway--two men afraid. "Come," said I to the Princess,
and, as she seemed to hesitate, "Come, my wife," I commanded, and
walked to the pine-tree, she following. I held out the handkerchief.
She took it, still obediently, and as she took it I clasped her hand
and lifted it to my lips.
"Nay," said I, challenging, "what was it you told your brother?
A moment? A pang? What are they to weigh against a lifetime of
dishonour?"
I saw her blench: yet even while she bandaged me at my bidding, I did
not arrive at understanding the folly--the cruel folly of that
speech. Nay, even when, having bandaged me, she stepped away and
left me, I considered not nor surmised what second meaning might be
read in it.
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