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of doing such a thing. Would she think he had done
it for effect? To do it before a roomful of people
must seem as if it were done for effect. There had n’t
been the least danger in it.
Before he could think of rising, the Countess
was on her knees beside him. She caught hold of
the reddened, sooted hands, and looked at them.
“I will kiss them—kiss them,” she cried, “as
soon as they are not too tender and painful.” And
the tears poured from her eyes as she saw the blisters
rising under the burned skin.
Thus he became to her the realization of an
unknown nobility. That such things could still happen
in the world! That it had been done for her sake!
What a man he was, able to do all, as mighty in
good as in evil, a man of great achievements, a man
of strong words and brilliant deeds! A hero, a hero!
Created different, of different clay from other men!
The slave of a caprice, of the desire of a moment,
wild and fearful, but the possessor of a furious
strength, fearing nothing.
She had been so oppressed all the evening, and
had seen only sorrow and cruelty and cowardliness
about her. Now all was forgotten. The Countess was
again happy in living. The goddess of twilight had
been conquered, and light and color again clothed
the world.
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