Carford, driven half-mad by an outburst which his own device had caused, moved by whatever of true love he had for her, and by his great rage and jealousy against me, fairly ran at her and caught her by the wrist.
"Why do you talk of him? Do you love him?" he said from between clenched teeth.
She looked at him, half-angry, half-wondering. Then she said,
"Yes."
"Nell Gwyn's lover?" said Carford.
Her cheek flushed again, and a sob caught her voice as it came.
"Yes," said she. "Nell Gywn's lover."
"You love him?"
"Always, always, always." Then she drew herself near to him in a sudden terror. "Not a word, not a word," she cried. "I don't know what you are, I don't trust you; forgive me, forgive me; but whatever you are, for pity's sake, ah, my dear lord, for pity's sake, don't tell him. Not a word!"
"I will not speak of it to M. de Fontelles," said Carford.