"It is not that, either," returned the woman.
"Jeanne, I shall love thee always, cruel as thou hast been. And if thou art so generous as to pray for others, say a little prayer that will help me bear my loneliness through the cold northern winter that I had hoped might be made warm and bright by thy presence. Have a little pity if thou hast no love."
He was mournfully handsome as he stood there in the silvery light. Almost her heart was moved. She said a special prayer for only one person, but Louis Marsac might slip into the other class that was "all the world."
"Monsieur, I will remember," bowing a little.
"Oh, lovely icicle, you are enough to freeze a man's soul, and yet you rouse it to white heat! I can make no impression I see. Adieu, adieu."
He gave a sudden movement and would have kissed her mouth but she put her hand across it, and Pani, divining the endeavor, rose at the same instant.
"Mam'selle Jeanne Angelot, you will repent this some day!" and his tone was bitter with revenge.
Then he plunged down the street with an unsteady gait and was lost in the darkness.
"Pani, come in, bar the door. And the shutter must be fastened;" pulling the woman hastily within.
"But the night will be hot."