So have common executioners been thanked by queenly ladies baring their necks to the axe.
He called up the pain he suffered to vindicate him; and it was really an agony of a man torn to pieces.
“I have done the best.”
This dogged and stupid piece of speech was pitiable to hear from Nevil Beauchamp.
“You think so?” said she; and her glass-like voice rang a tremour in its mildness that swelled through him on the plain submissive note, which was more assent than question.
“I am sure of it. I believe it. I see it. At least I hope so.”
“We are chiefly led by hope,” said Renée.
“At least, if not!” Beauchamp cried. “And it’s not too late. I have no right—I do what I can. I am at your mercy. Judge me later. If I am ever to know what happiness is, it will be with you. It’s not too late either way. There is Roland—my brother as much as if you were my wife!”
He begged her to let him have Roland’s exact address.
She named the regiment, the corps d’armée, the postal town, and the department.