Had she guessed - as
I, without sight of her face, had guessed - what was to follow? My
gorge was rising fast. I clenched my hands, and by an effort I
restrained myself to learn that I had guessed aright.
"Some two months ago," he said, "I journeyed to Lavedan, as you may
remember. I saw you, mademoiselle - for a brief while only, it is
true - and ever since I have seen nothing else but you." His voice
went a shade lower, and passion throbbed in his words.
She, too, perceived it, for the grating of a chair informed me that
she had risen.
"Not now, monsieur - not now!" she exclaimed. "This is not the
season. I beg of you think of my desolation."
"I do, mademoiselle, and I respect your grief, and, with all my
heart, believe me, I share it. Yet this is the season, and if you
have this man's interests at heart, you will hear me to the end."
Through all the imperiousness of his tone an odd note of respect -
real or assumed - was sounding.
"If you suffer, mademoiselle, believe me that I suffer also, and if
I make you suffer more by what I say, I beg that you will think how
what you have said, how the very motive of your presence here, has
made me suffer. Do you know, mademoiselle, what it is to be torn
by jealousy? Can you imagine it? If you can, you can imagine also
something of the torture I endured when you confessed to me that you
loved this Lesperon, when you interceded for his life. Mademoiselle,
I love you - with all my heart and soul I love you.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196