“Mademoiselle looks frightened—confused. Also she reddens,—she is of a youth, enchanting!
“‘But, Roger,’ she says timidly, ‘I would not know how to ask you questions. I——’
“‘Then listen,’ he says, leaning forward until his black eyes stare into her blue ones; ‘I could tell you almost anything, and you would believe me, Julie?’
“‘Yes,’ says mademoiselle faintly.
“‘I could tell you no, I have not been all these things—I have not drunk much nor gambled nor lost at cards, as they all say, nor—had flirtations with women. I could tell you that, couldn’t I, and you would believe me?’
“‘Ye-es,’ mademoiselle says—yet more faintly.
“‘Well, I tell you nothing of the sort! I tell you, yes, Julie—I have done all these things; I have been wild and extravagant, and what you call dissipated, perhaps. I have been all these; but since how long? and to whose harm—except my own? Can you find me a man in the Quarter who will tell you that, since a year, I have been anything but what you see me now—sane and keen for my work? Can you find me a woman who will tell you that since a year she has seen me anywhere but drinking coffee in some place like this—or that ever, in all the five years, I was anything but gentle and courteous to her? You cannot, Julie!’ cries Monsieur Roger passionately, ‘you cannot!’
“Mademoiselle Julie is trembling—and there are tears in her blue eyes.
“‘With you,’ declares Monsieur Roger, ’as with all the world—Paris, Baltimore, all!—I am what I am. I seek to be nothing else. But I think you have never quite understood what I am—is it not so?’
“Mademoiselle shakes her head. She is overcome—pauv’ petite!—But m’sieu is famishing! M’sieu’s assiette anglaise—an instant!”