She sat down beside him, and with a coaxing, childish gesture, drew his arm about her.
'Tu me fais pitie, mon ami!' she said, looking up into his face. 'Is it your sister? Go and find her—I will wait for you.'
He turned upon her, his black eyes all passion, his lips struggling with speech.
'My place is here,' he said. 'My life is here!'
Then, as she was silent, not knowing in her agitation what to say, he broke out:
'What was in your mind yesterday, Elise? what is there to-day? There is something—something I will know.'
She was frightened by his look. Never did fear and grief speak more plainly from a human face. The great deep within had broken up.
'I was sorry,' she said, trembling, 'sorry to have hurt you. I wanted to make up.'
He flung her hand away from him with an impatient gesture.
'There was more than that!' he said violently; 'will you be like all the rest—betray me without a sign?'