"Don't be alarmed, mon enfant," he said, cheerily, "you are all right. But you have worked too hard——"
"Oh! no, no, no!" she interrupted. "And it has been such a pleasure!"
"Yes; but too much pleasure——"
She sighed. Her eyes were wet,—she tried to turn them away.
"Hold on, petite! none of that!"
"Then you must not talk to me in that way,—not now!"
"No? And pray, how, then, mademoiselle?"
"Talk of—tell me of your love, monsieur, mon ami. You were speaking of it but now. Tell me of that, please. It is so—love is so beautiful, Monsieur Jean! Talk to me of her,—of Mademoiselle Remy. I have a woman's curiosity, monsieur, mon frère."
It was the first time she had called him brother. She had risen upon her elbow and nervously laid her small hand upon his.
She invited herself to the torture. It had an irresistible fascination for her. She gave the executioner the knife and begged him to explore and lay bare her bleeding heart.