"She does not think of me," he thought. Then wishing to talk of himself, he said:
"It is life that I regret. I ought to have done so much."
"I wanted to give you that," she said at last, feeling in the air the approach of the last hour. "I wanted to die for you. That was my dream. You would have revered my memory and I should have been happy."
"Why do you say that?" he said, frowning. "And what do you mean?"
"I am only an ignorant girl," she said. "I could not long have been your companion."
"You are wrong," he cried vehemently, repeating it several times, "and you do me an injustice."
She yielded, and asked the question that had been on her lips a dozen times:
"Truly, Eugène, you would have married me?"
"Can you doubt it, Nicole?"
"You are good, very good." She smiled, satisfied to bear this promise away with her, but in her heart she was not quite convinced. "You have been very kind."