“Have you not twice saved my life?”
This strange accusation made me smile; he perceived it, and smiled bitterly.
“Yes, I know it too well: once you saved my life from an alligator, and once from a planter, and what is worse I am denied the right to hate you, I am very unhappy.”
The strangeness of his language and of his ideas surprised me no longer; it was in harmony with himself.
“I owe more to you than you can owe to me. I owe you the life of Marie, of my betrothed.”
He started as though he had received some terrible shock. “Marie!” repeated he in stilled tones, and his face fell in his hands which trembled violently, whilst his bosom rose and fell with heavy sighs.
I must confess that once again my suspicions were aroused, but this time there were no feelings of anger or jealousy. I was too near my happiness, and he was trembling upon the brink of death, so that I could not for a moment look upon him as a rival, and even had I done so, his forlorn condition would have excited my compassion and sympathy.
At last he raised his head.
“Go,” said he; “do not thank me.”
After a pause he added, “And yet my rank is as lofty as your own.”