“I cannot do less than tell you the truth,” said Ezra in great distress. “Wherever I went my heart would remain here, where I have known true happiness, and it will always be looking for my lost one to come back to me.”
“She won’t come back till Cotterell is tired of her,” said Madame brutally. “Will you be grateful for his cast-off mistress?”
“Stop,” said Ezra, putting his hand quickly before her lips, “you must not speak so of her to me.”
“Fool that I am!” muttered Madame under her breath. She turned from him with a gesture of anger.
“Oh, forgive me,” exclaimed Ezra, seeing and feeling what the expression meant. “Never was man so miserable, never was one so unhappily placed. I owe you more than words can say, I owe you my best thoughts, I owe you my very life itself. I would willingly give you my life——”
“Then why not give it and come with me?” burst out Madame. “Leave all this misery behind you, I will make your path as smooth as heart could wish. Come.”
“My heart can never follow any other path, it will dwell amid the ruins of its former happiness. Do not speak again of this. Let us remain friends as before.”
“It can never be again as it was before,” said Madame with heaving bosom.
“Why not?” asked Ezra. “I have not much else left in life.”
“Why not,” repeated Madame in scorn. “You ask me why not! Would you care for Olive’s friendship when all her love was given to Cotterell?”