She drew herself up hastily.
“I? Love that fop, that doll, that silly girl in men’s clothes? Nonsense!—I took him as I would have taken any other man.”
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t help it, because I was mad, because I had and still have in my heart a criminal love, which I am determined to tear out, no matter at what cost.”
She had risen and was speaking with her eyes in his, her lips near his, trembling from head to foot.
A criminal love?—Whom did she love, in God’s name?
Frantz was afraid to question her.
Although suspecting nothing as yet, he had a feeling that that glance, that breath, leaning toward him, were about to make some horrible disclosure.
But his office of judge made it necessary for him to know all.
“Who is it?” he asked.