To another
and worthier man, the task of thanking you might be an easy one; but to me,
who know myself to be so far beneath you, the obligation is so overwhelming
that I know of no words to fitly express it."
"Monsieur, Monsieur, I beseech you! Already you have said overmuch."
"Nay, Mademoiselle; not half enough."
"Have you forgotten, then, what you did for me? Our trivial service to you
is but unseemly recompense. What other man would have come to my rescue as
you came, with such odds against you--and forgetting the affronting words
wherewith that very day I had met your warning? Tell me, Monsieur, who
would have done that?"
"Why, any man who deemed himself a gentleman, and who possessed such
knowledge as I had."
She laughed a laugh of unbelief.
"You are mistaken, sir," she answered. "The deed was worthy of one of
those preux chevaliers we read of, and I have never known but one man
capable of accomplishing it."
Those words and the tone wherein they were uttered set my brain on fire. I
turned towards her; our glances met, and her eyes--those eyes that but a
while ago had never looked on me without avowing the disdain wherein she
had held me--were now filled with a light of kindliness, of sympathy, of
tenderness that seemed more than I could endure.
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