Then Luzanne told her story, avoiding the fact that Carnac had been tricked into the marriage. At last she said: “Now I’ve come here to make him acknowledge me. He’s ruined my life, broken my hopes, and—”
“Broken your hopes!” interrupted Barode Barouche. “How is that?”
“I might have married some one else. I could have married some one else.”
“Well, why don’t you? There’s the Divorce Court. What’s to prevent it?”
“You ask me that—you a Frenchman and a Roman Catholic! I’m French. I was born in Paris.”
“When will you let me see your papers?”
“When do you want to see them?”
“To-day-if possible to-day,” he answered. Then he held her eyes. “To whom else here have you told this story?”
“No one—no one. I only came last night, and when I took up the paper this morning, I saw. Then I found out where you lived, and here I am, bien sur. I’m here under my maiden name, Ma’m’selle Luzanne Larue.”
“That’s right. That’s right. Now, until we meet again, don’t speak of this to anyone. Will you give me your word?”