Malipieri hesitated only a moment.

“I give you my word,” he said.

She rose at once and went towards one of the doors, without looking at him.  He wondered whether she meant to dismiss him rudely, and stood looking after her.  She stopped a moment, with her hand on the knob of the lock, and glanced back.

“I will call Sabina,” she said, and she was gone.

He stood still and waited, and two or three minutes passed before Sabina entered.  She glanced at him, smiled rather gravely, and looked round the room as she came forward, as if expecting to see some one else.

“Where is my mother?” she asked, holding out her hand.

“She said she was going to call you,” Malipieri answered.

“So she did, and she told me she was coming back to you, because I was not quite ready.”

“She did not come back.”

“She means us to be alone,” Sabina said, and suddenly she took both his hands and pressed them a little, shaking them up and down, almost childishly.  “I am so glad!” she cried.  “I was longing to see you!”

Even then, Malipieri could not help smiling, and for a moment he forgot all his troubles.  When they sat down, side by side, upon a little sofa, the Princess was already telling the ambassador that Malipieri had come and that they were engaged to be married.  She had carried the situation by a master stroke.

“She has told you all about me,” Malipieri said, turning his face to Sabina.  “You know what my life is.  Has she told you everything?”

“Yes,” Sabina answered softly, but not meeting his look, “everything.  But I want to hear it from you.  Will you tell me?  Will it hurt you to tell me about what you did for your friend?  You know my mother is not always very accurate in telling a story.  I shall understand why you did it.”

He had known that she would, and he told her the story, a little less baldly than he had told her mother, yet leaving out such details as she need not hear.  He hesitated a little, once or twice.

“I understand,” she repeated, watching him with innocent eyes.  “She felt just as if they were really married, and he could not bear to die, feeling that she would be without protection, and that other men would all want to marry her, because she was beautiful.  And her father and mother were angry because she loved him so much.”

“Yes,” Malipieri answered, smiling, “that was it.  They loved each other dearly.”

“It was splendid of you,” she said.  “I never dreamt that any man would do such a thing.”

“It cannot be undone.”  He was at least free to say that much, sadly.

There was a pause, and they looked away from each other.  At last Sabina laid her hand lightly upon his for a moment, though she did not turn her face to him.

“I should not like you so much, if you wished to undo it,” she said.

“Thank you,” he answered, withdrawing the hand she released when she had finished speaking, and folding it upon his other.  “I should love you less, if you did not understand me so well.”