“No harm from you. Oh, I mean it.... I—I don’t blame him. If I were a man I think—yes, I’m sure—I should love you as he does.... But—”
“But he is bad, and I have made him bad?”
“It isn’t you who make him bad....”
“Then he is not bad, for there is no other. I am ver’ sure. He is fidèle.”
“You don’t understand. It is not you who make him bad, but the thing he is doing ... his relations with you. They are bad.”
“It is mos’ difficult—like some philosophy in a big book. I make him bad, but I do not make him bad, yet he is bad bicause of me....” Her eyes began to flash as she arose in Kendall’s defense. “It is not true. What you say is ver’ bad and wicked. For he is nevair bad.... As for me, I do not theenk I am bad. No. I do not theenk le bon Dieu believes I am bad. You yourself, mademoiselle, have seen me and speak weeth me. Do you theenk I am bad?”
“No, dear. I believe you are good.... I mean it. From the bottom of my heart, I believe you are good.”
“It is well. Then, can one take something bad from one who is good? See! To be bad is to offend the good God. Have I offended the good God who smiles when there is a great love? I do not theenk. Have I made Monsieur Ken to offend the good God?... I should not be happy as I am if it were so.... Have I made him to do a wickedness? Am I a woman of that sort? It is not true. All I have desire is for him to be good and to be ver’ happy.... That is not a sin, and it does not make a sin for him.... And you would not marry him even though you love him.... Mademoiselle, that is not a good love, not such a love as make the good God to smile.... It is a wickedness to love so....”
“My dear—”
“No.... Let me speak. Suppose thees Monsieur Ware have love me and marry me—and I am no more. I am dead. Then you would not marry him?”