“But she would turn you out; and deuced quick, too, I can assure you of that; I can, upon my honour.”
“I should not care that,” and she made a motion with her hand to show how indifferent she would be to such treatment as regarded herself. “Not that—; if I still had the promise of your love.”
“But what would you do?”
“I would work. There are other houses beside that one,” and she pointed to the slate roof of the Bauche establishment.
“And for me—I should not have a penny in the world,” said the young man.
She came up to him and took his right hand between both of hers and pressed it warmly, oh, so warmly. “You would have my love,” said she; “my deepest, warmest best heart’s love should want nothing more, nothing on earth, if I could still have yours.” And she leaned against his shoulder and looked with all her eyes into his face.
“But, Marie, that’s nonsense, you know.”
“No, Adolphe, it is not nonsense. Do not let them teach you so. What does love mean, if it does not mean that? Oh, Adolphe, you do love me, you do love me, you do love me?”
“Yes;—I love you,” he said slowly;—as though he would not have said it, if he could have helped it. And then his arm crept slowly round her waist, as though in that also he could not help himself.
“And do not I love you?” said the passionate girl. “Oh, I do, so dearly; with all my heart, with all my soul. Adolphe, I so love you, that I cannot give you up. Have I not sworn to be yours; sworn, sworn a thousand times? How can I marry that man! Oh Adolphe how can you wish that I should marry him?” And she clung to him, and looked at him, and besought him with her eyes.