He turned away, and bent over his table, arranging a paper here, closing a drawer there. After a few moments he came to where she stood, and looked fixedly at her for a short time. His former look she had met, but before this her eyes dropped.
"Citoyenne," he said slowly, "I ask your pardon. I had hoped that—" He paused, and began again. "I am no informer—you may have reliance on my honour and my friendship. I warned you because I saw you friendless and inexperienced. These are dangerous times—times of change and development. I believe with all my heart in the goal towards which we are striving, but many will fall by the way—some from weakness, some by the sword. I was but offering a hand to one whom I saw in danger of stumbling."
His altered tone and grave manner softened Aline's mood. "Indeed, Citizen," she cried on the impulse, "you have been very kind to me. I am not ungrateful—I have too few friends for that."
"Do you count me a friend, Citoyenne?"
Mademoiselle drew back a shade.
"What is a friend—what is friendship?" she said more lightly.
And Dangeau sought for cool and temperate words.
"Friendship is mutual help, mutual good-will—a bond which is rooted in honour, confidence, and esteem. A friend is one who will neither be oppressive in prosperity nor faithless in adversity," he said.
"And are you such a friend, Citizen?"
"If you will accept my friendship, you will learn whether I am such a friend or not."