So I grew silent and still stared out at the sea.  Indeed, I was wondering in my mind whether I dared ask leave to depart, for I felt her eyes burning on me, and grew much afraid.  Suddenly I heard a sound, a gentle sound of rustling silk, and in another instant I felt Irene’s arms clasped about me and Irene’s head laid upon my knee.  Yes, she was kneeling before me, sobbing, and her proud head was resting on my knee.  The diadem she wore had fallen from it, and her tresses, breaking loose, flowed to the ground, and lay there gleaming like gold in the moonlight.

She looked up, and her face was that of a weeping saint.

“Dost understand?” she whispered.

Now despair took me, which I knew full well would soon be followed by madness.  Then came a thought.

“Yes,” I said hoarsely.  “I understand that you grieve over that matter of the Augustus and the poisoned figs, and would pray me to keep silence.  Have no fear, my lips are sealed, but for his I cannot answer, though perhaps as he had drunk so much——­”

“Fool!” she whispered.  “Is it thus that an Empress pleads with her captain to keep silence?” Then she drew herself up, a wonderful look upon her face that had grown suddenly white, a fire in her upturned eyes, and for the second time kissed me upon the lips.

I took her in my arms and kissed her back.  For an instant my mind swam.  Then in my soul I cried for help, and strength came to me.  Rising, I lifted her as though she were a child, and stood her on her feet.  I said: 

“Hearken, Empress, before destruction falls.  I do understand now, though a moment ago I did not, who never thought it possible that the queen of the world could look with favour upon one so humble.”

“Love takes no account of rank,” she murmured, “and that kiss of yours upon my lips is more to me than the empire of the world.”

“Yet hearken,” I answered.  “There is another wall between us which may not be climbed.”

“Man, what is this wall?  Is it named woman?  Are you sworn to the memory of that Iduna, who is more fair than I?  Or is it, perchance, her of the necklace?”

“Neither.  Iduna is dead to me; she of the necklace is but a dream.  The wall is that of your own faith.  On this night seven days ago I was baptised a Christian.”

“Well, what of it?  This draws us nearer.”

“Study the sayings of your sacred book, Empress, and you will find that it thrusts us apart.”

Now she coloured to her hair, and a kind of madness took her.

“Am I to be preached to by you?” she asked.

“I preach to myself, Augusta, who need it greatly, not to you, who mayhap do not need it.”

“Hating me as you do, why should you need it?  You are the worst of hypocrites, who would veil your hate under a priest’s robe.”

“Have you no pity, Irene?  When did I say that I hated you?  Moreover, if I had hated you, should I——­” and I ceased.