"Why," he said in his low, harmonious tone, "why did you wish to die? You shall live, Jane, and nothing shall ever separate us more!"
He pressed his lips to Jane's. This kiss was an oath. Would Esperance keep it?
Goutran returned with the case.
"Shall I not call some one?" asked the young man.
"No, not yet," Esperance replied.
He opened the box and took out an instrument.
"My hand does not tremble, does it?"
"No," said the painter, "it is perfectly firm."
Then, entirely master of himself though deadly pale, Esperance probed the wound.
Goutran watched every movement and studied his face. It was a strange scene. Jane, with her fair bosom all uncovered, seemed to sleep.