Let me be your slave up to the walls of Ganlook, and then you
may forget Baldos, the goat-hunter."
"I never can forget you," she cried, touching his injured arm
gently. "Will you forget the one who gave you this wound?"
"It is a very gentle wound, and I love it so that I pray it may never
heal." She looked away suddenly.
"Tell me one thing," she said, a mist coming over her eyes. "You say
they are hunting you to the death. Then--then your fault must be a
grievous one. Have you--have you killed a man?" she added hastily. He
was silent for a long time.
"I fear I have killed more than one man," he said in low tones. Again
she shrank into the corner of the coach. "History says that your father
was a brave soldier and fought in many battles," he went on.
"Yes," she said, thinking of Major George Calhoun.
"He killed men then, perhaps, as I have killed them," he said.
"Oh, my father never killed a man!" cried Beverly, in devout horror.
"Yet Graustark reveres his mighty prowess on the field of battle," said
he, half laconically.
"Oh," she murmured, remembering that she was now the daughter of
Yetive's father. "I see. You are not a--a--a mere murderer, then?"
"No. I have been a soldier--that is all."
"Thank heaven!" she murmured, and was no longer afraid of
him. "Would--would a pardon be of any especial benefit to you?" she
asked, wondering how far her influence might go with the Princess
Yetive.
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