Gilles could have dashed his head against the nearest tree-trunk, so enraged was he with himself, so humiliated at his own weakness. How deeply did he regret now that de Landas' sword had not ended his miserable life, before he had brought sorrow and tears to this woman whom he worshipped. What right had he to disturb her peace of mind? What right to stir to the very depths of her fine nature those strong passions which, but for his clumsy touch, might for ever have remained dormant?
And through it all was the sense of his own baseness, which had come upon him with a rush—his treachery to Madame la Reyne, his falseness to his sworn oath. Love for this beautiful woman had swept him off his feet, caught him at a weak and unguarded moment and left him now covered with humiliation and self-reproach, an object of hatred to himself, for ever in future to be haunted by the recurrent vision of the loved one's face bathed in tears and by the sound of those harrowing sobs which would until the end of time rend his soul with unutterable anguish.
'Would to God we had never met!' he murmured fervently.
And she had sufficient courage, sufficient strength, to smile up at him through her tears, murmuring with enchanting simplicity:
'Would to God we had not to part.'
What else could he do but fall on his knees in mute adoration, and with the final, heartbroken farewell dying upon his lips? He stooped low until his head nearly touched the ground. Her small foot in its velvet shoe peeped just beneath the hem of her gown, and with a last act of humble adoration, he pressed his lips upon its tip.
'Farewell, my adored one,' he said softly, as he straightened out his tall, massive figure once more. 'With my heart and my soul I worship you now and for all time. Even though I may never again look upon your loveliness, the memory of it will haunt me until the hour of death, when my spirit—free to roam the universe—will fly to you as surely as doth the swallow to its mate. And if in the future,' he added with solemn earnestness, 'aught should occur to render me odious in your sight, then I pray you on bended knees and in the name of this past unforgettable hour, to remember that, whatever else I may have done that was unworthy and base, my love for you has been as pure and sacred as is the love of the lark for the sun.'
And, before she could reply, he was gone. She watched his tall figure striding rapidly away along the grass walk, until he became a mere speck upon the shimmering distance beyond. Soon he disappeared from view altogether, and