"What then?"
"That you were in love with my wife."
Philippe faced Albert's look, which was hard and imperious.
"Yes," he said calmly. "I have a worshipful admiration for Elizabeth. You may call it what you like."
"Take care, I shall know how to defend her."
"Against what and by what right?"
And influenced by his own unselfishness which inclined him to greatness of soul, desiring to expiate his former deception, he rose and held out his hand to his friend who did not refuse it:
"Come, Albert, how can we talk in this way—here."
Albert returned his handshake with that gratitude we feel toward those who have saved us from our own pettiness:
"I am unjust. They were infamous anonymous letters that I scarcely read. And then, her death has recalled so many memories that I believed to be remote, utterly silenced. A little flame has burst from the embers of my fireside."