Philippe was silent.
"My friend," the tired voice went on, "you are killing me."
Philippe was touched, but his wounded pride was unwilling to show it. "What do you want?" he said.
"Mercy!" she answered.
The tone of her voice touched him, but he did not understand. "What do you need?"
"Leave me!" she said.
His anger sprang up again. "You are driving me away?"
"I am begging you for peace. Peace! . . . Leave me alone for a few weeks."
"You don't love me any longer?"
"I am defending my love."