“No, we won’t. Not until I have cleared my name.”
“Yes, but if you cannot clear your name, what then are we to do?” she demanded.
“Forget we ever met!” said Ludovic with a groan.
This Spartan resolve did not commend itself to Eustacie at all. Two large tears sparkled on the ends of her eyelashes, and she said in a forlorn voice: “But me, I have a memory of the very longest!”
Ludovic, seeing the tears, could not help putting his arm round her again. “Sweetheart, don’t cry! I can’t possibly let you marry me if I’m to remain an exile all my life.”
Eustacie stood on tiptoe, and kissed his chin. “Yes, you can. It is quite my own affair. If I want to marry an exile I shall.”
“You won’t.”
“But yes, I have thought of a very good plan. We will go and live in Austria, where my uncle the Vicomte is.”
“Nothing would induce me to live in Austria!”
“ Bien, then we will live in Italy, at Rome.”