"On your honor."
"There, on my honor, then! Give me the money."
She gave it to him, and suddenly casting herself on her knees, she cried hysterically:
"Thanks, thanks! You have a heart, I know. You will keep your word. You can pity. You can be merciful. Thanks! Thanks!"
Catching the ugly, cruel hands in hers, she covered them with her kisses and her tears. Then, escaping, she fled down the corridor, returning to bed, but not to sleep.
In the morning Barabant awoke, to find her eyes open and the sunlight in the room.
"How well I slept!" he said, springing up. Going to the window, he spread his hands into the beam of the sun that entered. "That feels good. Tiens, you have a strange look! What is it? You are not afraid?"
"No," she answered, smiling.