He dropped on his knees before her, kissing the hem of her gown. She stood looking down on his bowed head with a tenderness that seemed to infold him as with a mantle.
He raised his eyes to hers, still kneeling at her feet.
"Lorance, will you come with me?"
She was silent a moment, with heaving breast and face a-quiver.
"Monsieur, I am sworn. That night when Félix came, when I was in deadly terror for him and for you, Étienne, I promised my lord, an he would lift his hand from you, to obey him in all things. He bade me never again to hold intercourse with you—alack, I am already forsworn! But I cannot—"
He leaped to his feet, crying out:
"Lorance, he was the first forsworn! For he did move against me—"
"He told you—the warning went through Félix—that if you tried to reach me he would crush you as a buzzing fly. Oh, monsieur, I implored you to leave Paris! You are not kind to me, you are cruel, when you venture here."
"You are cruel to me, Lorance."
Sighing, she turned from him, hiding her face in her hands.