“You may!”--she said--“There is nothing to conceal--nothing of which I am ashamed! Besides, it is the true motive of the action which you are pleased to call ‘heroic.’ I saved your life simply because--because you resemble in form and feature, in look and manner, the only man I love!” A curious silence followed her words. The faint far whispering of the leaves on the trees outside seemed almost intrusively loud in such a stillness,--the placid murmur of the sea against the cliff below the Palace became well-nigh suggestive of storm. Lotys was suddenly conscious of an odd strained sense of terror,--she had spoken as freely and frankly as she would have spoken to any one of her own associates,--and yet she felt that somehow she had been over-impulsive, and that in a thoughtless moment she had let slip some secret which placed her, weak and helpless, in the King’s power. The King himself stood immovable as a figure of bronze,--his eyes resting upon her with a deep insistence of purpose, as though he sought to wrest some further confession from her soul. The tension between them was painful,--almost intolerable,--and though it lasted but a minute, that minute seemed weighted with the potentialities of years. Forcing herself to break the dumb spell, Lotys went on hurriedly and half desperately:-- “You may smile at this,” she said--“Men always jest with a woman’s heart,--a woman’s folly! But folly or no, I will not have you draw any false conclusions concerning me,--or flatter yourself that it was loyalty to you, or honour for your position that made me your living shield to-day. No!--for if you were not the exact counterpart of him who is dearer to me than all the world beside, I think I should have let you die! I think so--I do not know! Because, after all, you are not like him in mind or heart; it is only your outward bearing, your physical features that resemble his! But, even so, I could not have looked idly on, and seen his merest Resemblance slain! Now you understand! It is not for you, as King, that I have turned aside a murderer’s weapon,--but solely because you have the face, the eyes, the smile of one who is a thousand times greater and nobler than you,--who, though poor and uncrowned, is a true king in the grace and thought and goodness of his actions,--who, all unlike you, personally attends to the wants of the poor, instead of neglecting them,--and who recognises, and does his best to remedy, the many wrongs which afflict the people of this land!” Her sweet voice thrilled with passion,--her cheeks glowed,--unconsciously she stretched out her uninjured hand with an eloquent gesture of pride and conviction. The King’s figure, till now rigid and motionless, stirred;--advancing a step, he took that hand before she could withhold it, and raised it to his lips.