“Yes, but not without you, Camille. I am afraid to leave you.”
“You have more to fear if you stay. Well, I can’t wait any longer. Stay, then, and live; and learn from me how to love Jean Raynal.”
He levelled the pistol at himself.
Josephine threw herself on him with a cry, and seized his arm. With the strength excitement lent her she got the better, and all but overpowered him. But, as usual, the man’s strength lasted longer, and with a sustained effort he threw her off; then, pale and panting, raised the pistol to take his life. This time she moved neither hand nor foot; but she palsied his rash hand with a word.
“No; I LOVE YOU.”
CHAPTER XIII.
There lie the dead corpses of those words on paper; but my art is powerless to tell you how they were uttered, those words, potent as a king’s, for they saved a life.
They were a cry of terror and a cry of reproach and a cry of love unfathomable.
The weapon shook in his hand. He looked at her with growing astonishment and joy; she at him fixedly and anxiously, her hands clasped in supplication.