A vast joy penetrated him as he once more felt, and clearly felt, that woman's confusion in his presence. He no longer had the sense of being to her . . . what he was, a thief, a robber; he was a man, a man who loved and whose love roused unspoken feelings in the depths of a friendly soul.
Then he said no more, but he lavished upon her, unuttered, every known word of love and admiration; and he thought of the life which he might lead somewhere, not far from Veldenz, unknown and all-powerful. . . .
A long silence united them. Then she rose and said, softly:
"Go away, I entreat you to go. . . . Pierre shall marry Geneviève, I promise you that, but it is better that you should go . . . that you should not be here. . . . Go. Pierre shall marry Geneviève."
He waited for a moment. Perhaps he would rather have had more definite words, but he dared not ask for anything. And he withdrew, dazed, intoxicated and happy to obey, to subject his destiny to hers!
On his way to the door, he came upon a low chair, which he had to move. But his foot knocked against something. He looked down. It was a little pocket-mirror, in ebony, with a gold monogram.
Suddenly, he started and snatched up the mirror. The monogram consisted of two letters interlaced, an "L" and an "M."
An "L" and an "M!"
"Louis de Malreich," he said to himself, with a shudder.
He turned to Dolores: