“Oho!” said the other. “Have you come to bargain for silence?”
“No, my lord, for I am more interested in keeping the secret than you.”
“Then you are Gilbert!”
With his deep and devouring glance the magnetiser enveloped the young man whose name comprised such a dreadful accusation. Gilbert stood before the table without leaning on it: one of his hands fell gracefully by his side, the other showed its long thin fingers and whiteness spite of the rustic labor.
“I see by your countenance what you come for. You know that a dreadful denunciation is hanging over you from Mdlle. de Taverney, that her brother seeks your life, and you think I will help you to elude the outcome of a cowardly act. You ought not to have the imprudence to walk about in Paris.”
“This little matters. Yes,” said the young man, “I love Mdlle. de Taverney as none other will love her: but she scorned me who was so respectful to her that, twice having her in my arms, I hardly kissed the hem of her dress.”
“You made up for this respect and revenged yourself for the scorn by wronging her, in a trap.”
“I did not set the trap: the occasion to commit the crime was afforded by you.”
The count started as though a snake had stung him.
“You sent Mdlle. Andrea to sleep, my lord,” pursued Gilbert. “When I carried her into her room, I thought that such love as mine must give life to the statue—I loved her and I yielded to my love. Am I as guilty as they say? tell me, you who are the cause of my misery.”