"My honour is pledged," he went on, "but suffer me once to kiss this hand now that it wears no ring, to dream that it need wear none, that you are free. Ah, Countess, ah, Emilia—for once let me call you Emilia!"
"For once, if you like. Don't get into the habit of it," she advised.
"No, I 'll only think of you by that name."
"I should n't even do as much as that. It would be a— I mean you might forget and call me it, you know."
"Never was man so unhappy as I am," he cried in a low but intense voice. "But I am wrong. I must remember my trust. And you—you love the Count?"
"I am very fond of Andrea," said she, almost in a whisper. She seemed to suffer sorely from embarrassment, for she added hastily, "Don't—don't press me about that any more." Yet she was smiling.
The Captain knelt on one knee and kissed her hand very respectfully. The mockery passed out of her smile, and she said in a voice that for a moment was grave and tender:
"Thank you. I shall like to remember that. Because I think you 're a brave man and a true friend, Captain Dieppe."
"I thank God for helping me to remain a gentleman," said he; and, although his manner was (according to his custom) a little pronounced and theatrical, he spoke with a very genuine feeling. She pressed her hand on his before she drew it away.
"You 'll be my friend?" he asked.