“On us! Thank you for saying on us. See now, you have not gained happiness by destroying mine. One word—do you love that man?—that Dujardin?”
“You know I do not.”
“I am glad of that; since his life is forfeited; if he escapes my friend Raynal, he shall not escape me.”
Rose uttered a cry of terror. “Hush! not so loud. The life of Camille! Oh! if he were to die, what would become of—oh, pray do not speak so loud.”
“Own then that you DO love him,” yelled Edouard; “give me truth, if you have no love to give. Own that you love him, and he shall be safe. It is myself I will kill, for being such a slave as to love you still.”
Rose’s fortitude gave way.
“I cannot bear it,” she cried despairingly; “it is beyond my strength; Edouard, swear to me you will keep what I tell you secret as the grave!”
“Ah!” cried Edouard, all radiant with hope, “I swear.”
“Then you are under a delirium. I have deceived, but never wronged you; that unhappy child is not—Hush! HERE SHE COMES.”
The baroness came smiling out, and Josephine’s wan, anxious face was seen behind her.