Big tears were silently rolling down the poor girl’s cheeks. She murmured,—
“Perhaps you are right, Jacques. But, O Jacques, if they should condemn you!”
“Well, I should at least have done my duty. I should have met fate, and defended my honor. And, whatever the sentence may be, it will not overthrow me; for, as long as my heart beats within me, I mean to defend myself. And, if I die before I succeed in proving my innocence, I shall leave it to you, Dionysia, to your kindred, and to my friends, to continue the struggle, and to restore my honor.”
She was worthy of comprehending and of appreciating such sentiments.
“I was wrong, Jacques,” she said, offering him her hand: “you must forgive me.”
She had risen, and, after a few moments’ hesitation, was about to leave the room, when Jacques retained her, saying,—
“I do not mean to escape; but would not the people who have agreed to favor my evasion be willing to furnish me the means for passing a few hours outside of my prison?”
“I think they would,” replied the young girl; “And, if you wish it, I will make sure of it.”
“Yes. That might be a last resort.”
With these words they parted, exhorting each other to keep up their courage, and promising each other to meet again during the next days.