“I should have loved her now,” I answered at last, “were it not for one fact.”
There was a mystery which had ended our love, and I saw now an opportunity of clearing it up. “To what fact do you refer?”
“To the reason of our parting.”
“The reason!” echoed the Countess. “I have no idea whatever of the reason. What was it?”
I held my breath. Would it be just to tell her the truth? I wondered. I reflected for a moment, then in a calm voice answered:
“Because I discovered that her heart was not wholly mine.”
She regarded me with undisguised amazement.
“Do you mean that Yolande had another lover?”
“No!” I cried with sudden resolve. “This conversation is not fair to her. It is all finished. She has forgotten, and we are both happy.”
“Happy!” cried the Countess hoarsely. “You are, alas! mistaken. Poor Yolande has been the most unhappy girl in all the world. She has never ceased to think of you.”