"You don't think I'll tell!"
"Not if you say you won't. But I didn't know. You were always so good. You might have thought it your duty. Mary—you won't tell Vanno? I couldn't bear it!"
"I won't tell Vanno, or any one at all."
"You're sure—sure you won't let anything drop, by mistake?"
"Explain to me exactly what you want me to do," Mary said, "and I'll do it. Are we to have been strangers to each other till to-day—is that it?"
"Yes, that's the best thing: less complicated. It will save telling lies."
"I should hate to tell lies," said Mary.
"You needn't. Oh, the hundreds and thousands I've had to tell! The dreary, uphill work! But now I'm on the hill, the beautiful hill in the sunshine where my husband lives. And I'm going to stay there if I have to wade in lies."
Mary shivered a little at the words and the look in Marie's eyes as they stared behind the spider web veil. But she tried not to show that she was shocked. She felt she would give her hand to be cut off rather than hurt this miserable girl who had sinned and suffered, and now stood desperately at bay.
"Try to be happy; try to trust me," she said. "We used to be such friends."