"Madame, have I need of more words? It is for this: that you might not picture me as I am not, or form any false conception of me. I have bared my moral skeleton to you. Perhaps you will never know what it costs a man at times to make his mind as glass to the woman he honours above the whole world."
"Well?"
"It is because I honour you that I have goaded myself to tell you the whole truth."
Her verdict was more sudden and more human than he might have expected.
"Messire, you are a brave man," she said; "I believe I am beginning to trust you."
The sky flamed into sunset; the tracery of the trees seemed webbed with gold into shimmering domes and fans of quivering light. In the distance, the great cliff stood out darkly from the scarlet caverns of the west. The pine tops rose like the black spires of some vast city. Above, floated clouds, effulgent mounts of fire, hurled from the abysmal furnace of the sun.
Flavian came two steps nearer to the woman, leaning against the tree.
"Give me my due," he said; "I have uncovered the difficult workings of my heart, I have shown you the inner man in his meaner mould. Suffer me to speak of my manhood in godlier words. I have shown you Winter; let me utter forth Spring."
Yeoland turned and faced him at last.
"You have risked your life and my honour long enough," she said, "I am going back to the cliff."