"Why must I leave you so soon? Do you hate me so intensely that you cannot bear to see me?"
"No, you know it is not that, my friend;" said Mary. "But Bertha is in the next room; she may have heard you come. She may be hearing what you say. Good God! what would become of me--of me who have sworn to her that I did not love you!"
"You may have sworn that to her, but to me you swore otherwise. You swore that you loved me, and it was upon the faith of that love that I consented to conceal my own."
"Michel, I entreat you, go away!"
"No, Mary, I will not go until your lips have repeated to me again what they said on the island of Jonchère."
"But that love is almost a crime!" said Mary, desperately. "Michel, my friend, I blush, I weep, when I think of that momentary weakness."
"Mary! I swear to you that to-morrow you shall have no such remorse, you shall shed no tears of that kind."
"Oh, you mean to die! No, no; do not say it! Leave me the hope that my sufferings may bring you a better fate than mine. Hush! Don't you hear? Some one is coming! Go, Michel; go, go!"
"One kiss, Mary!"
"No."