“No, Monsieur, it was not to say farewell. I would accompany you in your flight. Do not start like that at my words; I cannot see your face––perhaps if I could I should lose courage. I have made my choice, Monsieur. I will not remain the slave of M. Cassion. Whether for good or evil I give you my faith.”
“You––you,” his hands grasped mine. “You mean you will go with me into exile, into the woods?”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“But do you realize what it all means? I am a fugitive, a hunted man; never again can I venture within French civilization. I must live among savages. No, no, Adele, the sacrifice is too great. I cannot accept of it.”
“Do you love me, Monsieur?”
“Mon Dieu––yes.”
“Then there is no sacrifice. My heart would break here. God! Would you doom me to live out my life with that brute––that murderer? I am a young woman, a mere girl, and this is my one chance to save myself from hell. I am not afraid of the woods, of exile, of anything, so I am with you. I would rather die than go to him––to confess him husband.”
“The lady is right, Rene,” Boisrondet said earnestly. “You must think of her as well as yourself.”
“Think of her! Mon Dieu, of whom else do I think. Adele, do you mean your words? Would you give up all for me?”