In the morning, however, he put his doubts to the proof. Bending over the now awakened man, who, all through the night, while he had watched near him, slept heavily, he asked the question, and, a second afterwards, the look in the other's eyes showed that he had surmised truly. Rightly or wrongly, with either clear or clouded brain, Valentin believed the woman innocent.
"You do believe it--think it? Nay," noticing the intensity of the other's gaze, "you know it. You mean to signify that?" and, overcome by his emotion at this new development, he returned the intensity of that gaze. "There is no doubt?"
From the speechless man there flashed back the answer of his eyes--as eloquent as any words. There was no doubt.
Yet, still, he could scarcely bring himself to believe; again through his mind there flashed the thought, "how, if the man was guilty, was the woman innocent?"
Carried away now, however, by an overwhelming rush of ideas, he went on:
"And if innocent--Heavens! if innocent--does harm threaten her--threaten her more, since he thinks I know all, than before?"
Again he saw that he had struck the mark, had divined aright. Once more the eyes of Debrasques answered "Yes."
"Harm that may come to her through his fear of what he imagines I know? Harm that may be averted, perhaps, by me if I can find her--or, again, find him?"
And still once more--none could have doubted it who saw the face over which he bent!--the answer was in the affirmative.
"You counsel me, you bid me go, you warn me to avert this harm? It is so, Debrasques, even though I leave you?"