As he said these words, he tried to take one of Reine’s hands, which she kept over her face.
“Wretch! do not come near me!” cried she, repulsing him with horror, and looking at him so disdainfully that Erebus did not dare take another step.
A veil fell from his eyes. The accent, the emotion, the indignation of Reine were so sincere that, in an instant, he lost all hope. He saw, or rather believed, that he had been grossly deceived, that the young girl had no affection for him.
In his painful surprise, he fell on his knees before Reine and, with clasped hands, cried, in a pathetic voice:
“You do not love me then?”
“You—you—-”
“Oh, forgive me, forgive me, mademoiselle,” continued Erebus, on his knees, with his hands clasped, and he added with charming ingenuousness: “My God! forgive me, I thought you loved me. Ah, well! no, no, do not be angry! I believed it,—the Bohemian told me so; if he had not, I should never have done what I have done.”
But for the gravity of the occasion, one would have laughed to see this young pirate, lately so bold, so resolute, trembling and lowering his eyes before the angry glance of Reine.
Stephanette, struck with this contrast, in spite of her grief, could not help saying:
“Why, to hear him, one would think it was the waggish trick of a page, about some stolen ribbon or bouquet! Fie, fie, sir, you are a pagan, a monster!”