"But Mathilde must not stay to share my fate. She must go away with you now, while there is opportunity."
"I will not stir from your side, Madame,—they will have to tear me away when they come to kill you," said Mathilde, and then to me, "They have not sent Madame any food to-day. I think the plan is to starve us."
"Horrible!" I said. "That, no doubt, is because of my escape. But who knows when the Count, in one of the rages caused by his fancies, may turn to some method still more fearful. Madame, how can you endure this? Why, it is to encourage his crime, when you might escape!"
"Monsieur, you cannot tempt me with sophistries. What God permits—"
"Has not God permitted me to come here, with the means of escape? Avail yourself of them—see if God will not permit that."
"We know that God permits sin, Monsieur, for his own good reasons. It is for us to see that we are not they to whom it is permitted."
"But can you think it a sin to save yourself?"
"It is always a sin to break vows, Monsieur. And now—to go with you, of all men—would be doubly a sin." She had lowered her voice, and she lowered her eyes, too, and drew slightly back from me.
"Then go with Hugues, Madame," said I, my own voice softened almost to a whisper. "Only let me follow at a little distance to see that you are safe. And when you are safe, finally and surely, I will go away, and we shall be as strangers."
Tears were in her eyes. But she answered: