"Victor," she said of a sudden, "forgive me!"
"Forgive you for what?"
"For innocently bringing this trouble upon you, for endangering your head."
"Oh, that is nothing. Danger is spice to a man's palate. But will you not remove your mask that I may look upon your face while you speak?" There was a break in his voice. This unexpected meeting seemed to have taken the solids from under his feet.
"You have been drinking!" with agitation.
"I have been striving to forget. But wine makes us reckless, not forgetful." He rumpled his hair. "But will you not remove the mask?"
"Victor, you ought never to look upon my face again."
"Do you suppose that I could forget your face, a single contour or line of it?"
"I have been so thoughtless! Forgive me! It was my hope that many months should pass ere we met again. But fate has willed it otherwise. I have but few words to say to you. I beg you to listen earnestly to them. It is true that in your company I have passed many a pleasant hour. Your wit, your gossip, your excellent verses, and your unending gaiety dispelled many a cloud of which you knew nothing, nor shall know. When I fled from Paris there was a moment when I believed you to be guilty of that abominable crime. That grey cloak; I had seen you wear it. Forgive me for doubting so brave a gentleman as yourself. I have learned all. You never spoke of the Chevalier du Cévennes as being your comrade in arms. That was excessive delicacy on your part. Monsieur, our paths must part to widen indefinitely."
"How calmly you put the cold of death in my heart!" The passion in his voice was a pain to her. Well she knew that he loved her deeply, honestly, lastingly. "Gabrielle, you know that I love you. You are free."