'Nay, something! But something which I could not hope to
make clear to you.'
I sat for a moment confounded, quivering with pain. It had been
one thing to feel that she hated and scorned me, to know that the
trust and confidence which she had begun to place in me were
transformed to loathing. It was another to listen to her hard,
pitiless words, to change colour under the lash of her gibing
tongue. For a moment I could not find voice to answer her. Then
I pointed to M. de Cocheforet.
'Do you love him?' I said hoarsely, roughly. The gibing tone
had passed from her voice to mine.
She did not answer.
'Because if you do you will let me tell my tale. Say no, but
once more, Mademoiselle--I am only human--and I go. And you will
repent it all your life.'
I had done better had I taken that tone from the beginning. She
winced, her head dropped, she seemed to grow smaller. All in a
moment, as it were, her pride collapsed.
'I will hear you,' she murmured.
'Then we will ride on, if you please,' I said keeping the
advantage I had gained. 'You need not fear. Your brother will
follow.
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