“Where are you going?”
A rush of blood colored the face of the unfortunate man; and he said in an embarrassed voice,—
“I beseech you, Dionysia, do not insist upon my telling you. Permit me to keep this secret, the only one I have ever kept from you.”
Two tears trembled for a moment in the long lashes of the young girl, and then silently rolled down her cheeks.
“I understand you,” she stammered. “I understand but too well. Although I know so little of life, I had a presentiment, as soon as I saw that they were hiding something from me. Now I cannot doubt any longer. You will go to see a woman to-morrow”—
“Dionysia,” Jacques said with folded hands,—“Dionysia, I beseech you!”
She did not hear him. Gently shaking her heard, she went on,—
“A woman whom you have loved, or whom you love still, at whose feet you have probably murmured the same words which you whispered at my feet. How could you think of her in the midst of all your anxieties? She cannot love you, I am sure. Why did she not come to you when she found that you were in prison, and falsely accused of an abominable crime?”
Jacques cold bear it no longer.
“Great God!” he cried, “I would a thousand times rather tell you every thing than allow such a suspicion to remain in your heart! Listen, and forgive me.”