"No, no, I must speak with you. Up to now I have lived in an awful nightmare--amidst ghastly phantoms who pursued and tortured me. But when I heard your voice--when I heard you give that order, I awoke. The dreams vanished, I heard and understood--and remembered!" She drew herself upright and, for a moment spoke with a penetrating clearness. "Not in half an hour--never! Withdraw that order! If you go against them you are accursed. Lay down your arms! You must--you know you must! You dare not--" She clung to his arm and her eyes seemed to burn their way into his very soul. "I tell you--to turn traitor is to inherit an endless hell--" "A traitor!" he echoed. Something clutched at his heart, a sort of numb suspense which became electrified as he saw a new expression flash into her face. "Yes, a traitor!" she whispered. "That was what I was. I was English--yes, English in spite of all, but in my bitterness I turned from my people. I let myself be taken alive. I would not share the fate of those who had once been dear to me. My whole life has been the punishment. They tortured me and then came the dreams--the awful, hideous dreams. I was always looking for you, always calling for you. And they laughed and mocked at me. Only one man did not laugh--" her voice grew doubtful and hesitating, as though she were groping in the shadows of her memory. "He did not laugh. He promised to help me but he never came again--and I died--yes, I died--but I saw your face, I heard your voice--and I came back from death--to save you!" Once more her vision cleared and her voice grew steadier. "Go back to them! They are your friends. If you do not go, you will break your heart--as mine is broken. Swear to me--you must, because--" He bent closer to her to catch every sound that fell from her lips. His pulses were beating with a suffocating violence. Somewhere a veil was lifting. It was as if the sunlight were at last breaking through a mist of strange dreams, strange longings, strange forebodings. The confused voices that had called to him throughout his life grew clearer. "Because--?" he whispered. But she did not answer. Her head was thrown back. Her open eyes were fixed intently on his face. Suddenly she smiled. It was a smile that chilled his blood with its hideous distortion. And yet behind it lurked the possibility of a long-lost beauty and sweetness. "Steven!" she whispered. "Steven!" Closer and closer she drew his face to hers. Her icy lips rested on his cheek. Pity and a strange, as yet unformed, foreboding made him accept that dying caress and speak to her with an urgent, pleading gentleness. "You have something to tell me," he murmured, "something I must know. Tell me before it is too late." But her eyes had closed and she did not answer him.