" He dropped his
hands from the chair and sought the window, leaning his arms
against the central frame.
Madame had fully recovered her composure. She saw her way to the
end.
"It is true," she said, "that I do not love you, but it is also
true that I am not indifferent to you. What proof have I that
you really love me? None, save your declaration; and that is not
sufficient for a woman such as I am. Shall I place my life in
your hands for better or for worse, simply because you say you
love me?"
"My love does not reason, Madame."
She passed over this stroke. "I do not know you; it is not less
than natural for me to doubt you. What proof have I that your
declaration of love is not a scheme to while away your captivity
at my expense? My heart is not one to be taken by storm. There
is only one road to my affections; it is narrow. Other men have
made love to me, but they have hesitated to enter upon this self-
same road."
"Love that demands conditions? I have asked none."
Madame blushed. "A man offers love; a woman confers it."
"And what is this narrow road called which leads to your
affections? Is your heart a citadel?"
"It is called sacrifice.
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