“I was.”
‘“You guillotined my father, my brother, my uncle—all my family, nearly, and broke my mother’s heart. They had done nothing but keep silence. Their sentiments were only guessed. Their headless corpses were thrown indiscriminately into the ditch of the Mousseaux Cemetery, and destroyed with lime.”
‘He nodded.
‘“You left me without a friend, and here I am now, alone in a foreign land.”
‘“I am sorry for you,” said be. “Sorry for the consequence, not for the intent. What I did was a matter of conscience, and, from a point of view indiscernible by you, I did right. I profited not a farthing. But I shall not argue this. You have the satisfaction of seeing me here an exile also, in poverty, betrayed by comrades, as friendless as yourself.”
‘“It is no satisfaction to me, Monsieur.”
‘“Well, things done cannot be altered. Now the question: are you quite recovered?”
‘“Not from dislike and dread of you—otherwise, yes.”
‘“Good morning, Mademoiselle.”
‘“Good morning.”