"Speak! Explain yourself!"
"I have nothing to say, my poor friend," she said, in a very low voice her features wrung with despair.
"Then ... mademoiselle...?"
"Mademoiselle saved me ... through devotion ... through affection ... and accused herself...."
"Saved you from what? From whom?"
"From that man."
"Bresson?"
"Yes, he held me by his threats.... I met him at a friend's house ... and I had the madness to listen to him. Oh, there was nothing that you cannot forgive!... But I wrote him two letters ... you shall see them.... I bought them back ... you know how.... Oh, have pity on me.... I have been so unhappy!"
"You! You! Suzanne!"
He raised his clenched fists to her, ready to beat her, ready to kill her. But his arms fell to his sides and he murmured again: