Ikni rose, came over, and peered into the face of the half-breed. Then she muttered: "I know you—I know you. The dead has come back again." She caught his arm with her bony fingers as if to satisfy herself that he was flesh and blood, and shaking her head dolefully, went from the room. When the door closed behind her there was silence, broken only by an exclamation from the man.
The other drew her hand across her eyes, and dropped it with a motion of despair. Then Pierre said, sharply: "Bien?"
"Francois," she replied, "you are alive!"
"Yes, I am alive, Lucy."
She shuddered, then grew still again and whispered: "Why did you let it be thought that you were drowned? Why? Oh, why?" she moaned.
He raised his eyebrows slightly, and between the puffs of smoke, said:
"Ah yes, my Lucy, why? It was so long ago. Let me see: so—so—ten years. Ten years is a long time to remember, eh?"
He came towards her. She drew back; but her hand remained on the chair.
He touched the plain gold ring on her finger, and said:
"You still wear it. To think of that—so loyal for a woman! How she remembers, holy Mother! . . . But shall I not kiss you, yes, just once after eight years—my wife?"
She breathed hard and drew back against the wall, dazed and frightened, and said: