“I was so anxious to make you happy,” he murmured.
“I am happy.”
“No; you are crying.... Your tears break my heart, Clotilde.”
The caressing and sympathetic tone of his voice soothed her, and she listened to him with an eager desire for hope and happiness. Her features were softened by a smile, and yet how sad a smile! He continued to speak in a tone of tender entreaty:
“You should not be unhappy, Clotilde; you have no cause to be.”
She displayed her delicate white hands and said, solemnly:
“Yes, Maxime; so long as I see those hands I shall be sad.”
“Why?”
“They are stained with blood.”
“Hush! Do not think of that!” exclaimed Lupin. “The dead is past and gone. Do not resurrect it.”