"That is persecution!"
"It is love. I shall master you some day," recovering his hat and standing, "be that day near or far. I am a man, a man of heart and courage. You need no proof of that. I have bent my knee to you for the last time but once. I shall no more entreat," holding his head high.
"Truly, Monsieur!" her wrath running over.
"Wait! You have forced me, for some purpose unknown, to love you. Well, I will force you to love me, though God alone knows how."
"You do well to add that clause," hotly. "Your imagination is too large. Force me to love you?" She laughed shrilly.
But his eye was steady, even though his broad chest swelled.
"You have asked me who I am," she cried. "Then, listen: I am …"
His face was without eagerness. It was firm.
"I am …" she began again.
"The woman I love, the woman who shall some day be my wife."