‘Yes, one—one only,’ replied Adèle with sudden warmth, ‘and I think there is no other like him in the world. Ah, mademoiselle, it is so strange that you should ask me, since he is coming here to see me this very day.’
‘Tell me about him, Adèle,’ said the invalid gently.
‘To tell you truly all he is, mademoiselle, I should have to tell you all I have been, and then, you might hate me! But no, you are too good. I know you have never been there—-where he found me—in the life which is worse than hell. If you have been unfortunate, you have not-been to blame; but I—I have been a devil, tempted by a devil! Ah, yes!’
As she proceeded, the girl seemed to yield more and more to the hysterical excitement of her temperament and race. Her face went ghastly pale, her eyes swam with tears, her hands opened and shut convulsively.
‘Do not speak of it,’ said the other, taking her hand again gently—‘since it gives you such pain.’
‘No, mademoiselle, let me speak,’ returned Adèle struggling with her agitation, ‘but I will not speak of that, but of him who raised me from it and saved my life for God. Twice, mademoiselle, he came like the angel he is; the first time it was too soon; the second time I thought it was the Lord Himself, standing—ah, so beautiful!—at my bedside.’
She ceased, and, pressing her hands upon her bosom, gazed out through the window, as if indeed she saw before her the heavenly vision of which she spoke. Then, after a little time, the invalid broke the silence, saying:—
‘I think I understand you. I, too, have known such a man as you describe—all goodness, all kindness—so different to the rest. But I brought great misery to him, and sometimes I think his heart must be quite broken. That is what fills me with despair.’
‘Truly, mademoiselle?’
‘Yes. If I could be certain that he was happy, that he had forgotten me, I should not mind.’