"Did I not tell you that the French have their own point of view, and that we have ours."
M. Gerbert had continued to gaze in silence at his wife. As if moved with the courage of desperation, taking her hands from before her face, she ventured to make an attempt to offer some sort of plea in self-defence.
"Alphonse, I did it for you.'
"For me?" M. Gerbert tapped his hand against his breast "It was for me that you paid a visit to a strange man?"
"It was a little plot which I had formed to gain for you the ten thousand francs of which, you know, you are in need. I had thought to gain them for you in exchange for my life—so that my death might be worth something to you, though my life had been worth nothing at all. And, Alphonse—husband! I have only returned to tell you that I think I have gained for you the sum which you require."
"The sum which I require—my wife, at what price?"
The strangest smile flitted across the girl's face as she held out her hands and answered—
"What does it matter?"
"To you—nothing at all To me—everything. I have my good name—I! I have my honour!" M. Gerbert crossed his arms upon his chest "Already, because of you, my honour has been dragged in the dust. Your English friend has used me as if I were a thing of the gutter, here, in my own apartment."
Mr. Kennard interposed.
