“You are bewitched,” she replied, with a shudder.
“Yes, there are moments when I feel powerless.”
“You wish, then, you were free from this thraldom? You wish that you had never met her?”
“I do indeed. But since I know her I must love her.”
Sidonie was again tempted to go. It was agony to hear him speak thus of another. And yet how cowardly to run away! No, she must summon the courage to endure it.
“My good Sidonie,” continued Bruno, “how patient you are—how sympathetic.”
“How long have you loved her?” ventured Sidonie.
“Even before she married Savin. But I never dared to tell her so. It was like this, Sidonie: One day I was fishing in the Trinquelin brook and she came down in the neighboring field. Let me see, that was four months previous to the death of her father—and you know as well as I that Monsieur d’Angerolles was never guilty of crime. The accusation against him was all a network of lies.”
“Well, well, go on,” insisted Sidonie.
“She came into the meadow, as I said, and we joked together over the fence, and finally she said she would try her luck at fishing for a while. We cut some willow rods, and taking the bait and tackle we proceeded along the stream, at intervals casting our lines in little babbling pools and watching, with interest, for a bite.”