“It would be worthy of a man who could commit such an unutterable meanness—and without a shadow of excuse.”
“O, I had my excuse! I was uncertain of your fidelity; and you see how I was justified in my doubt. Then this opportunity offered, and I couldn’t resist taking it.”
“It was Gaspare, I suppose. You corrupt everybody and everything you touch. Well, you know now I hate you.”
“All’s one for that. It’s not your hate but your love that we’ve got to reckon with. A nightingale, forsooth! That hired automaton—that painted jackdaw mimicking his betters! You shall answer for the insult.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I told you.”
Actually, with the words, he unbuttoned the hatch and stepped forth. She crouched away from him, huddled within the curtain, her breath coming quick. The church was quite empty and silent.
“Come to my loving arms, Fanchette.”
She uttered a little whimper.
“If you were not such a vain fool you would understand.”