Raynal had something to say so painful that he shrank from plunging into it. He therefore, like many others, tried to creep into it, beginning with something else.
“Your health,” said he, “alarms me. You seem sad, too. I don’t understand that. You have no news from the Rhine, have you?”
“Monsieur!” said Josephine scared.
“Do not call me monsieur, nor look so frightened. Call me your friend. I am your sincere friend.”
“Oh, yes; you always were.”
“Thank you. You will give me a dearer title before we part this time.”
“Yes,” said Josephine in a low whisper, and shuddered.
“Have you forgiven me frightening you so that night?”
“Yes.”
“It was a shock to me, too, I can tell you. I like the boy. She professed to love him, and, to own the truth, I loathe all treachery and deceit. If I had done a murder, I would own it. A lie doubles every crime. But I took heart; we are all selfish, we men; of the two sisters one was all innocence and good faith; and she was the one I had chosen.”