. The sorceress of Rome. s face with both hands. And I love only her in the wide, wide world, he muttered. At this jimcture a light, elastic step resounded on the gravelpath. Benilo stepped into the clearing. Stephania awaits the king in the pavillion. Eckhardt laid his hands on Ottos shoulders, straining hiseyes in silent entreaty into those of the King. Do not go! he begged. Otto winced, but the presence of Benilo caused him to shakehimself free of the Margraves restraining hand. Stephania is waiting, he stammered. Then you will not grant my request ? Eckhardt spokewith qixivering voice. In
. The sorceress of Rome. s face with both hands. And I love only her in the wide, wide world, he muttered. At this jimcture a light, elastic step resounded on the gravelpath. Benilo stepped into the clearing. Stephania awaits the king in the pavillion. Eckhardt laid his hands on Ottos shoulders, straining hiseyes in silent entreaty into those of the King. Do not go! he begged. Otto winced, but the presence of Benilo caused him to shakehimself free of the Margraves restraining hand. Stephania is waiting, he stammered. Then you will not grant my request ? Eckhardt spokewith qixivering voice. In Rome we live, — in Rome we die! Taking Benilos arm he hastened away, leaving Eckhardtto ponder over his prophetic words. For a moment the Margrave remained, straining his gazeafter Ottos retreating form. His heart was heavy, — heavy to breaking. Dared he enterthe arena against the Sorceress of Rome ? He laughed aloud. There are moments when the tragedy of our own life isalmost amusing. 260 CHAPTER VI BEYOND THE GRAVE. CKHARDT turned to go, but hehad barely moved, when, as ifrisen from the earth, therestood before liim the tall, veiledform of a woman, who whis-pered, flooding his face with herburning breath: I love you! Come! Koone will see us! Eckhardt trembled in everylimb. He would have known that voice, even if it had spokento him from the depths of the grave. The heavy veil whichshrouded the womans face prevented Turn from scrutinizingher features. Who are you ? he stammered, just to say as thought she threw her arms roimd him, but torecede as swiftly. Hurry! See how lonely it is! Who are you ? Can you not guess ? He stretched out his arms toward her, but she gambolledbefore him, as a butterfly, flitting from flower to flower. Night of Love — night of madness, she whispered. To-night, if you but will it, the secret is yours! Her voice thrilled him through and through. Theperfume of the Poppy-flower sank benumbing intohis heart. It was her voice, — it
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