I did not
even know where she meant to go when we moved, nor did it appear
necessary to inquire yet, for the sentiment in her tones assured me
that she would dismiss me with no heartless haste.
Two men came strolling past the bench, and one of them stared at her so
impudently that I burned with indignation. After looking duels at him,
I turned to her, to deprecate his rudeness. Judge of my dismay when I
perceived that she was shuddering with emotion! Jealousy blackened the
gardens to me.
"Who is that man?" I exclaimed.
"I don't know," she faltered.
"You don't know? But you are trembling?"
"Am I?"
"I ask you who he is? How he dared to look at you like that?"
"Am I responsible for the way a loafer looks?"
"You are responsible for your agitation; I ask you to explain it!"
"And by what right, after all?"
"By what right? Wretched, false-hearted girl! Has our communion for
hours given me no rights? Am I a Frenchman or a flounder? Answer; you
are condemning me to tortures! Why did you tremble under that man's
eyes?"
"I was afraid," she stammered.
"Afraid?"
"Afraid that he had recognised me."
"Mon Dieu! Of what are you guilty?"
"I am not guilty."
"Of what are you accused?"
"I can tell you nothing," she gasped.
"You shall tell me all!" I swore. "In the name of my love I demand it
of you. Speak! Why did you fear his recognition?"
Her head drooped pitifully.
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