"You love me?" he cried; "I believe you; your accent, your look,—everything proclaims it! I will not ask how I have merited such happiness, but I abandon myself to it blindly; my life, my whole life, will not suffice to pay my debt to you! Oh, I have greatly suffered already, but this moment effaces all!"
"Then you will be comforted at last? Oh, I was sure I should contrive to do so!" cried Rigolette, in a transport of joy.
"And it is in the midst of the horrors of a prison, and when all conspires to overwhelm me, that such happiness—"
Germain could not conclude. This thought reminded him of the reality of his position. His scruples, for a moment lost sight of, returned more severe than ever, and he said, with despair:
"But I am a prisoner—I am accused of robbery; I shall be sentenced—dishonoured, perhaps! And I cannot accept of your generous sacrifice—profit by your noble excitement. Oh, no, no; I am not such a villain as that!"
"What do you say?"
"I may be sentenced to several years' imprisonment."
"Well," replied Rigolette, with calmness and firmness, "they shall see that I am an honest girl, and they will not refuse to marry us in the prison chapel."
"But I may be put in prison at a distance from Paris."
"Once your wife, I will follow you and settle in the city where you may be. I shall find work there, and can see you every day."