“Oh! then!” exclaimed Marguerite, with an indescribable accent, in which doubt began to give place to hope—
“Well! and then”—
“Oh! then—but no, no!”
“Do you know this ring?” said Paul, showing her the one with the key that opened the bracelet.
“Gracious heaven!” exclaimed Marguerite, “have mercy upon me! he is dead!”
“He lives.”
“Then he no longer loves me.”
“He loves you!”
“If he be living—if he still love me—oh! I shall go mad—what was it I was saying? If he be living—if he still love me, how comes it that this ring is in your possession?”
“He confided it to me as a token of recognition.”