“But this is madness! Why make a useless sacrifice? Are you afraid of what might happen if you obeyed him?”
“No.”
“Then go.”
“I shall stay.”
“But why? Why this obstinacy? It can do no good. Then why stay?”
“Because I love you, Patrice.”
He stood dumfounded. He knew that she loved him and he had already told her so. But that she loved him to the extent of preferring to die in his company, this was an unexpected, exquisite and at the same time terrible delight.
“Ah,” he said, “you love me, Coralie! You love me!”
“I love you, my own Patrice.”
She put her arms around his neck; and he felt that hers was an embrace too strong to be sundered. Nevertheless, he was resolved to save her; and he refused to yield: