“Still,” he said, “I may not deem myself worthy to touch this flower with my lips.”
And at that he turned and went from us, summoning Gusman to accompany him, and crying as he vanished, “Good luck and forgetfulness to all!”
So disappeared from our lives this singular man, who persisted to the very last in lashing me with the thong of my own twisting. We never saw him again; once only we heard of him.
As the flash of the retreating torch glimmered into attenuation, Carinne returned to me and sat down at my side.
“Little Thibaut,” she said softly, “he designed me so great a wrong that I know not where to place him in my memory.”
“With the abortive children of thy fancy, Carinne; amongst the thoughts that are ignorant of the good in themselves.”
She sighed.
“And so it was thou wast his informer as to our friendship? And why didst thou write, Jean-Louis?”
“To urge him, by our one time intimacy, to cease his persecution of a beautiful and most innocent lady.”
“I did not know, I did not know!” she cried; and suddenly her arms were round my neck, and I lay in a nest of love.