“The poison—O, the poison!”
“What poison?”
“The broth!”
“Foolish! It was just broth, no more. I swear it on my honour.”
“Henri!” Her hands began to tremble. He caught them in his own.
“I had hoped it would cure thy fever,” he said.
“It is cured,” she answered, and burst into overwhelming tears.
He took her into his arms. “Hush!” he said. “We have passed some unhappy hours, mignonne, each for the other’s sake. Now shall we call quits?”
[The End]