"You loved her!" he exclaimed, contemptuously.
"Noel!"
Noel wheeled on him with flashing eyes.
"I say, it's not true!" he cried. "I tell you, you did not love her! Love is stronger than hate, for nothing can stop it! True love will trample down any obstacle to pardon, to sacrifice! And no one who has not suffered can be sure that he has loved. No, my friend," he went on more calmly, "you didn't love Jacqueline. You loved her grace and her beauty and her charm but it did not blind you to her weakness! If you had really loved her she could have done you no irreparable wrong; for, even when she made this mistake, your love would have found an excuse!"
Floriot sprang up with an angry protest.
"No, no!" he cried. "Any man in the same place would have done what I did! You would—what would you do?"
Noel hesitated a moment. "I don't know——exactly—what I should do," he replied gravely, "because I am a man with a man's limitations. But I know what you ought to do!"
"I will never forgive her! I——"
"Listen to me a minute, Louis!" interrupted his friend, sternly. "Jacqueline is the mother of your son. He is her child and you have dared to separate them for life! Instead of holding out a helping hand to her, you have thrown her out of your house! You might have saved her from her future and you have given her the first push down the hill that leads—we both know where! Wait! Listen to me! You are a public servant. When you plead against a criminal you ask for a verdict and a sentence in proportion to the crime committed. Your wife loved you and gave you a son. She sinned against you and is sorry for her sin, and yet"—his voice rose with bitter passion—"and yet you have sentenced her to misery, despair and death!"
A growing fright was driving the angry gleam from Floriot's eyes as he raised his hand in protest.