"Do you tell me seriously," said Maurice, "that I shall never see you again!"
"Never," said the unknown, in a desponding tone.
"Madame," said Maurice, "you certainly jest with me." Then, raising his noble head, he shook his hanging curls like a man wishing to escape from some power which, in spite of himself, still bound him. The unknown regarded him with an undefinable expression. It was evident she had not altogether escaped the sentiment she had inspired.
"Listen," said she, after a moment's silence, interrupted only by a sigh, which Maurice had in vain endeavored to suppress. "Swear to me, upon your honor, to shut your eyes the moment I desire you to do so, and to keep them closed while you count sixty. Mind, upon your honor."
"If I swear, what will happen to me?"
"It will happen that I will prove my gratitude to you in a manner that I faithfully promise you I will never again to any other person, should he even do more for me than you have done, which would be no easy matter."
"But, at least, am I not to know—"
"No; trust to me. You will see—"
"In truth, Madame, I know not whether you are angel or demon."
"Will you swear it?"