He spoke as if tearing a secret from the depths of his heart: "I am—I am jealous of him."
She was astonished.
"You?"
"Yes, I."
"Why?"
"Because I love you and you know it"
Then she said severely: "You are mad, Bel-Ami!"
He replied: "I know that I am! Should I confess it—I, a married man, to you, a young girl? I am worse than mad—I am culpable, wretched—I have no possible hope, and that thought almost destroys my reason. When I hear that you are going to be married, I feel murder in my heart. You must forgive me, Suzanne."
He paused. The young girl murmured half sadly, half gaily: "It is a pity that you are married; but what can you do? It cannot be helped."
He turned toward her abruptly and said: "If I were free would you marry me?"