“Monsieur!”
Victor turned quickly. Vivienne stood before him. Stepping back, he regarded her.
“Why!” he cried, “the scoundrels have taken your boots, too.” Removing his under coat, he threw it upon the ground before her, saying as he did so:
“Mademoiselle, stand upon that. The ground is damp and you will get a fever.”
“Monsieur,” Vivienne repeated, “some good angel has guided your footsteps to this place. Merciful God, I thank Thee. Never have I felt the need of human sympathy as I do to-night. But for you, I must have died in this dreary place, alone and uncared for.”
The excitement attending her interview with her brother, the blow which she had received, and the discovery of the loss of her jewels and clothing, together formed the severest trial to which this delicate and tenderly nurtured girl had ever been subjected. As she stood there, it all came back to her, and the dreadful scene was acted over again in her mind. The nervous tension was too great, and she fell in a dead swoon at the feet of her rescuer.
“She has fainted and I am powerless to help her. She may die here before I can get assistance.” He raised her in his arms and looked tenderly at the cold, pallid face:
“Beloved of my soul, I may speak now that my voice cannot reach thee. I may gaze into thy beauteous face and press thy form close to my throbbing heart. Oh, Vivienne! Can hate dwell in a soul encased in a form like thine—a form upon which heaven has stamped its signet seals of beauty and love? No, no! It is impossible—and yet, I know that if my true name were but breathed into thy ears, those lovely eyes which, but a moment ago, were gazing into mine with such holy trust, such infinite tenderness, would be filled with horror and dismay. I am forever proscribed from creating any sentiment in thy heart save that of intensest hatred and loathing. Cruel fate—ruthless destiny! Why am I to suffer thus—to see her—to adore her—only to lose her?
“Vivienne, dearest object of my heart, would that I could pass thus, with my arms about thee, into that better world, where strife and hate, vendettas and revenge, murder and death, are things unknown. There, in the blessed company of the angels, I might teach thy pure soul to love mine and, with thee, enjoy an eternity of blissful rest.”
Vivienne’s lips parted and a faint touch of colour came to her cheeks. Victor removed his cap and fanned her, vigorously. The cool, fresh air soon revived her. As soon as she realised her position, she endeavoured to free herself from his arms and rise to her feet, but she was too weak and would have fallen again if he had not prevented it. Again, she tried to free herself from him.