Erceldoune gazed at him, answering nothing; his chest and sides heaved like those of some magnificent animal caught in the toils of the trapper. He cared nothing for his own life; he would have sold it dearly, content enough, if he died worthily; but she—for her he had no strength; for her he had no courage; for her he could sue what he would never for himself have sought; for her the grave was horrible to him.
To parry facts with lies, to turn aside discovery with subtle feints, was not in him; to deny that which he knew to be a truth never even passed his thoughts. This was another calamity, another danger, the darkest, perhaps, that could have come on them; but his instinct was to brave and meet it, not to slink from it under a poltroon's mask of falsehood. He went with a single step close up to his companion's side, and stood above him.
"Grant your conclusions right—what then?"
"That is rather for you to answer. Your future is a very hazardous one."
"I did not speak of my future, but of your course. What will it be?"
"Do you insinuate that I should betray you?"
"I do not insinuate; I ask. If the world may be
