But Stephen was now very faint, and he cast his eyes towards the Princess; and Rudolf followed his eyes. Now Rudolf had an affection for Stephen, and he loved his sister, and was a man of soft heart; so he cried gently to Osra, "Come, sister, and help me with him." And she rose, and came and sat down by the wall, and gathered Stephen's head into her lap; and there he lay, looking up at her, with a smile on his lips. But still he bled, and his blood stained the white cloak that she wore over her robe; and her tears dropped on his face. But Rudolf took his father by the arm, and led him a little way off, saying: "What matter, sire? The girl is young, and the man is dying. Let them be." The old King, grumbling, let himself be led away; and perhaps even he was moved, for he forgot Prince Henry and the Countess, and did not think of sending men in pursuit of them, for which reason they obtained a fair and long start in their flight. Then Stephen, looking up at Osra, said: "Do not weep, madame. They will escape now, and they will be happy." "I was not weeping for them," said the Princess. Stephen was silent for a little, and then he said: "In very truth it was no trick, madame; it was even as I said, from the first day that you rode along the street here; it was always the same in my heart, and would always have been, however long I had lived." "I do not doubt it, Stephen; and it is not for doubt of it that I weep," said she. Then, after a little while, he said: "Do you weep, madame, because I am dying?" "Yes, I weep for that." "Would you have me live, madame?" he asked. "No, I would not--no--but I do not know," she said. Then Stephen the smith smiled, and his smile was happy. "Yet," said he, "it would make small difference to the Princess Osra whether Stephen the smith lived or died." At this, although he lay there a dying man, a sudden flush of red spread all over her cheeks, and she turned her eyes away from his, and would not meet his glance; she made him no answer, and he said again: "What can it concern the Princess whether I live or die?" Still the blush burnt on her cheek, and still she had no answer to give to Stephen, as he lay dying with his head on her lap. And a bright gleam came into his eyes, and he tried to move a hand towards her hand; and she, seeing the effort, put out her hand and held his; and he whispered very low, for he could hardly speak: "You have not yet refused me three times, madame." At that her eyes came back to his, and their eyes dwelt long on one another. And for a moment it seemed to them that all things became possible, life and joy and love. Yet since all could not be, they were content that none should be. Then the Princess bent low over his head, and she whispered to him: "No, I have not refused you thrice, Stephen." His lips just moved once again, and, being very near him, she heard: "And you will not?" he said.