I knew not which would have conquered had I not espied the blood on Gretchen's white hand.
"You are wounded!" I cried.
She gazed at her hand as though she did not understand; then, with a little sob and a little choke she extended her arms toward me and stumbled.

Was ever there a woman who could look on blood without fainting?
Gretchen had not quite fainted, but the moon had danced, she said, and all had grown dim.
"Gretchen, why did you risk your life?
In God's name, what manner of woman are you, and where did you learn to use the sword?
Had you no thought of me ?" I was somewhat incoherent.
"No thought of you ?" She drew the back of her hand over her eyes.

"No thought of you?
I did it because--because I did not--I could not--you would have been killed!" I was a man--human.

I loved her.

I had always loved her; I had never loved any one else.