Indeed, I know not how to crave your forgiveness,
how to thank you, or how to hide my shame at those words I spoke to you
this afternoon at Canaples."
"Not another word on that score, Mademoiselle!"
And to myself I thought of what recompense already had been mine. To me it
had been given to have her lean trustingly upon me, my arm about her waist,
whilst, sword in hand, I had fought for her. Dieu! Was that not something
to have lived for?--aye, and to have died for, methought.
"I deserved, Monsieur," she continued presently, "that you should have left
me to my fate for all the odious things I uttered when you warned me of my
peril,--for the manner in which I have treated you since your coming to
Blois."
"You have but treated me, Mademoiselle, in the only manner in which you
could treat one so far beneath you, one who is utterly unworthy that you
should bestow a single regret upon him."
"You are strangely humble to-night, Monsieur. It is unwonted in you, and
for once you wrong yourself. You have not said that I am forgiven."
"I have naught to forgive."
"H?las! you have--indeed you have!"
"Eh, bien!" quoth I, with a return of my old tone of banter, "I forgive
then.
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