Nell began to tremble. The parable was plain to her. The man beside her had failed to win the woman he loved, and would try to make the best of the poor trinkets of fame and success. Her lips quivered, and her eyes drooped lower.
"Perhaps—perhaps he would have tried for the diamonds again," she said, almost inaudibly.
He looked at her with a sudden light in his eyes, a sudden flush on his white face.
"Do—do you think so? Do you think it would have been any use?"
Nell rose, and brought some milk and water for him.
"I—I don't know," she said. "I—I think, if he felt that he wanted them so badly, he would have tried again; and that—that—he might——"
He raised himself on his elbow and looked at her fixedly, his breath coming fast, his eyes searching hers.
"Ah!" he said. "You think that if he came to the countess and whined for the things, she would have given them to him out of sheer pity! Is that it?"
Nell shook her head.
"One can't imagine his being such a cur, such a fool, as to do it!" he said, sinking back. "And yet that is what I am! See how weak and cowardly I am, Nell! I promised that I would never again trouble you with my love; that I would be content to be your friend—your friend only; and yet a few days' sickness, and I am crawling at your feet and begging you to take compassion on me! And you'd do it!—yes, I know what you meant when you said that the man would try for the diamonds again!—out of womanly pity you would! Oh, shame on me for a cur to take advantage of my weakness!"