The sad tones of Gaston’s voice convinced her that her presentiment of evil was true.
“What new misfortune strikes us now?” she cried. “Why have you thus risked your life—a life far dearer to me than my own? What has happened?”
“This is what has happened, Valentine: our love-affair is the jest of the country around; our secret is a secret no longer.”
She shrank back, and, burying her face in her hands, moaned piteously.
“This,” said Gaston, forgetting everything but his present misery, “this is the result of the blind enmity of our families. Our noble and pure love, which ought to be a glory in the eyes of God and man, has to be concealed, and, when discovered, becomes a reproach as though it were some evil deed.”
“Then all is known—all is discovered!” murmured Valentine. “Oh, Gaston, Gaston!”
While struggling for his life against furious men and angry elements, Gaston had preserved his self-possession; but the heart-broken tone of his beloved Valentine overcame him. He swung his arms above his head, and exclaimed:
“Yes, they know it; and oh, why could I not crush the villains for daring to utter your adored name? Ah, why did I only kill two of the scoundrels!”
“Have you killed someone, Gaston?”
Valentine’s tone of horror gave Gaston a ray of reason.