They are torturing her.
I must go to her!" "Father," I said again, putting him gently back, "it is I--your own son Hugo--come back to speak with you, to help if it may be--to die for the Little Playmate if need be." "Hugo--Hugo!" he said.

"Yes, yes--of course, I know--my little lad, my pretty boy!" He pushed me back to look at me, eagerly, wistfully--and then thrust me sharply away.
"Bah!" he said; "you lie! What need to lie to a dying man?
My Hugo had yellow hair and a skin like lilies.

Yours is dark--" "Father," said I, "I am here disguised.

Help is coming, sure and strong, if we can only wait a little and delay the trial.

But tell me all.