"Yes, I believe all that," I said.
"Then why must you have any dealings with them?"
"Because they will have dealings with me; because they are plotting against me; because there are forces, over which I have no control, drawing me on."
"But why will they have dealings with you? Why are they plotting against you?"
"Because Voltaire knows that I love, with all my soul, the woman he wants to win for his wife."
A curious look shot across her face. What was it? Love, astonishment, pain, vexation, or joy? I could not tell; but my tongue was unloosed.
"Do I annoy you, astonish you, Miss Forrest?" I said. "Forgive me if I do. I have been regarded as a woman-hater, a society-avoider. That is because I never saw a woman in whom I was sufficiently interested to court her society. I have heard it said that such characters fall in love quickly, or not at all. The first day I saw you I fell in love with you; I love you now with all my soul."
She looked at my face steadily, but did not speak a word.
"Voltaire has found out this, and he too wants you for his wife; so he has been trying—is trying—to drive me away from here. How I cannot tell you; but what I have said is true!" I spoke rapidly, passionately, and I saw that her face became alternately pale and red, but she did not reply.
"Am I bold to speak thus?" I asked. "I think I must be, for I have scarcely known you a week. But I cannot help it. My life is given up to you. If I could but know that my love were not in vain! If you could give me some word of hope!"