“Not yet, not yet.”
“I have dared much. Tell me, have I failed you ever?”
“No, Tristan, no.”
“If you mistrust me, I can return.”
There was so deep a bitterness in his strong voice that she read his honour, and went near to him with her face upturned.
“Tristan, I am half ashamed,” she said.
“Ah, madame, I shall never shame you.”
“No, no.”
“Try me,” he said.
The man was breathing deeply, and she stooped of a sudden and kissed him on the lips. A red wave rushed over Tristan’s face. He stood stiff as a rock, with her hands upon his shoulders, looked in her eyes, and moved not a muscle.