But to one's capacity even, for his endearments, Dame Nature puts a limit, and soon Halima was fain, for want of breath, to place a drag on her effusiveness. She drew back and panted to regain her breath. When somewhat calmed, she spoke again.
"Cruel man," she murmured softly, "I began to think my charms were waning, when you remained so obdurate. Tell me, have I fallen off in face or form?"
He looked her over searchingly; there was hunger and covetousness in his eyes.
"My God!" he said in a tone almost of awe. "You are more beautiful than ever; I almost tremble at your loveliness."
A deep-drawn sigh escaped him. Presently he resumed, "Now tell me what you purpose. On what footing are we to stand towards one another?"
"Exactly as before, except in name. The world is not to know of our relationship. You will visit me openly, like my other friends, and sometimes in secret; only you must be circumspect. You will have your apartments in Paris, and I shall live on here. I shall have no secrets from you; you will know and be consulted about all my plans, for your help is vital to me. I am rich, and my purse will be always at our disposal. I will give you money before you leave me. Nay, you shall have it now, lest I forget it."
She moved to an escritoire and drew forth from it a roll of notes and gave it to him. "That will suffice for present needs," she said, "Do not be sparing in its use; there is plenty more."
Then she resumed her seat beside him. "Henri," she said, once more twining her arm around his neck, "I am all your own: body and soul and every atom of me are yours; but this is our own sweet secret."
"Sweet wife," he answered softly; "and I am wholly yours; my thoughts have never strayed to any other woman. I devote my will, my life to you. Henceforth I exist but to serve you."
"Dear boy," she cooed, "and do you think I could have let you go?"