the darkness, through the great, impenetrable silence that enshrouded the two of them, to see Simare's face, to read his tumultuous thoughts, his will. ... A few seconds passed. ...
Then he said:
"I beg your pardon. ... I am a scoundrel. ... I wanted to force you to take my name, to share my existence. ... It was cowardly and base of me. ... Still, there was more in me, believe me, than wicked designs. ... Oh, I hear your heart beating ... do not tremble! ... You will never be in danger from any one ... it is not only your eyes that protect you: there is the sound of your voice, there is your silence, there is the air you breathe, your mere presence. ... Forgive me. ..."
He went away. She dimly saw him cross the window-rail and presently heard the sound of his steps as he walked down the gravel-path in the garden.
Gilberte rushed to the door. She could
