"Mon Dieu . . a pretty bit of comedy!"
"What is it now, mon cher?" Quita asked anxiously, guessing his answer.
"It is Malcolm; no less. He reaps the reward of constancy; like the good boy in a Sunday-school book! And she . . eh bien, she is quite certain I shall be delighted to hear of her great good fortune. Very charming! Very correct!"
"And you, Michel . . you?"
He shrugged his shoulders, and tossed the note into the fender.
"Comme ça! It seems I am a negligible quantity. Possibly have been all along. The notion does not comfort a man's natural vanity. But on the whole . ." he paused; smiling at the concern in Quita's eyes, "on the whole, petite soeur . . . I am profoundly relieved! I should have proposed . . yes; and enjoyed a few weeks of Elysium. But it is certain I should never have delivered myself permanently into the hands of a woman! After that, it u useless to ask for your blessing, n'est ce pas?"
"Quite useless!"
But the hands stretched out to him belied her words; and as he knelt beside her once more, she set them upon his shoulders and kissed his forehead.
"This time I give you up for good, Michel!" she said, smiling. "At least I have done my level best for you; so my conscience is clear. But it is written that 'no man may redeem his brother'; and I might have known that Providence was not likely to make an exception in favour of a woman!"
"Is it perhaps a step towards redemption if, on your account, I give up playing with the feu sacré of the heart, and confine myself to the only form of it that the gods appear to have granted me?"