“Did you think me ugly?”
“You know better than that, for I made my finest statue from you.”
“Foolish?”
“No one was ever foolish who could act such a part as you did to-night.”
“Then you must see that you despised me.”
Sallenauve seemed wholly surprised by this deduction; he thought himself very clever in replying,—
“It seems to me that if I had behaved to you in any other manner you would have the right to say that I despised you.”
But he had to do with a woman who in everything, in her friendships, her hatreds, her actions, as in her words, went straight to her point. As if she feared not to be fully understood, she went on:—
“To-day, monsieur, I can tell you all, for I speak of the past; the future has opened before me, as you see. From the day you were good to me and by your generous protection I escaped an infamous outrage, my heart has been wholly yours.”
Sallenauve, who had never suspected that feeling, and, above all, was unable to understand how so artlessly crude an avowal of it could be made, knew not what to answer.