Sanctis was silent; he had not yet looked at her face; her presence hurt him. He wronged her; he thought her bold and without the natural shame of her womanhood.
She had no shame because she was as yet as innocent as a forest-doe.
'Do you want anything of me?' he said abruptly.
She looked at him in some surprise.
'No; I only wanted to say that. I could not bear to seem thankless and a coward. I am sorry, too, that I was harsh and rude, since you have been so brave and have saved him.'
The face of Sanctis darkened.
'I should not have lifted my hand to save him; I did what I did for you. How can you harbour him? how can you care for him? He is a felon.'
'He is innocent. He never killed her.'
He did not reply. The scene in the judgment-hall of Mantua rose up before his eyes.
Watching him she grew angry at his looks and at his silence.
'You believe he is innocent? You must; you shall. He loved her; he would not have hurt a hair of her head.'
