'I am he.'
CHAPTER X
CLON
'You!' she cried, in a voice which pierced my heart. 'You are
M. de Berault? It is impossible!' But, glancing askance at her
--I could not face her I saw that the blood had left her cheeks.
'Yes, Mademoiselle,' I answered in a low tone. 'De Barthe was my
mother's name. When I came here, a stranger, I took it that I
might not be known; that I might again speak to a good woman, and
not see her shrink. That, and--but why trouble you with all
this?' I continued rebelling, against her silence, her turned
shoulder, her averted face. 'You asked me, Mademoiselle, how I
could take a blow and let the striker go. I have answered. It
is the one privilege M. de Berault possesses.'
'Then,' she replied almost in a whisper, 'if I were M. de
Berault, I would avail myself of it, and never fight again.'
'In that event, Mademoiselle,' I answered coldly, 'I should lose
my men friends as well as my women friends. Like Monseigneur the
Cardinal, rule by fear.'
She shuddered, either at the name or at the idea my words called
up; and, for a moment, we stood awkwardly silent.
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