"
"But why, Monsieur? Have we not made you happy here?"
"So happy, Mademoiselle," I answered with fervour, "that at times it passes
my belief that I am indeed Gaston de Luynes. But go I must. My honour
demands of me this sacrifice."
And in answer to the look of astonishment that filled her wondrous eyes, I
told her what I had told Andrea touching my parole to Montr?sor, and the
necessity of its redemption. As Andrea had done, she also dubbed it
madness, but her glance was, nevertheless, so full of admiration, that
methought to have earned it was worth the immolation of liberty--of life
perchance; who could say?
"Before I go, Mademoiselle," I pursued, looking straight before me as I
spoke, and dimly conscious that her glance was bent upon my face--"before I
go, I fain would thank you for all that you have done for me here. Your
care has saved my life, Mademoiselle; your kindness, methinks, has saved my
soul. For it seems to me that I am no longer the same man whom Michelot
fished out of the Loire that night two months ago. I would thank you,
Mademoiselle, for the happiness that has been mine during the past few
days--a happiness such as for years has not fallen to my lot.
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