You were not perhaps, betrothed; indeed, I remembered
then how, solemnly you had sworn that you were not; and so I
bethought me that your vows to me may have been sincere and such as
a maid might honourably listen to."
"They were, Roxalanne! they were!" I cried.
But she continued "That you had Mademoiselle de Marsac's portrait
was something that I could not explain; but then I hear that you
had also Lesperon's papers upon you; so that you may have become
possessed of the one with the others. And now, monsieur--"
She ceased, and there against my breast she lay weeping and weeping
in her bitter passion of regret, until it seemed to me she would
never regain her self-control.
"It has been all my fault, Roxalanne," said I, "and if I am to pay
the price they are exacting, it will be none too high. I embarked
upon a dastardly business; which brought me to Languedoc under
false colours. I wish, indeed, that I had told you when first the
impulse to tell you came upon me. Afterwards it grew impossible."
"Tell me now," she begged. "Tell me who you are."
Sorely was I tempted to respond. Almost was I on the point of
doing so, when suddenly the thought of how she might shrink from me,
of how, even then, she might come to think that I had but simulated
love for her for infamous purposes of gain, restrained and silenced
me. During the few hours of life that might be left me I would at
least be lord and master of her heart. When I was dead - for I had
little hope of Castelroux's efforts - it would matter less, and
perhaps because I was dead she would be merciful.
Pages:
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176