There was a long silence, then she answered in a muffled but steady tone—
“You are right, Monsieur. I will not dare to force on you my ideas. You must act by your own—I will not humiliate you by insisting on your taking any sacrifice. I am speaking very coldly. Forgive me. My heart is not cold. I see there was not in either of our affections anything strong enough to weather storms—and you want the rest of your life free. And I see that you cannot keep me to an old promise—a de Clapiers, Monsieur, can only behave as you have behaved.”
She gave a great sigh, as if she was exhausted, and a chill sense of desolation filled the room.
“Tell me,” said Luc—“you were afraid?”
“Yes,” she admitted lifelessly; “but I would have done it.”
“Mademoiselle, I never doubted your courage.”
“I—did not lie to you,” came her toneless voice, “when I vowed—I meant——”
“I know,” he said—“I know.”
“And your father—your poor father——”
“He has courage too,” answered Luc, and he laughed. “Light the lamp now, Mademoiselle,” he added.