“I have said,” he began at last, “that I considered your husband, in leaving you, to have committed the worst of infamies. You are asking me to commit the same.” Madame raised her eyebrows. “You mean in leaving your wife?” she asked. “After what you have allowed me to suppose, I had not thought you would have that feeling. Nor would it be necessary for you to act as my husband has acted. But I am supposing, of course, that what you feel for me is--real.” “Pardon me, Madame,” said Léon firmly, “all that I have said to you is true--and yet--is it incredible to you?--I love my wife!” Madame smiled at him. “You know how children play with daisies?” she said. “As they pull off the little white petals one by one--‘He loves me--a little, very much, passionately, not at all.’ It is funny what comes after passionately--so soon after, Léon.” He stirred uneasily. Madame began to pull to pieces a spray of wistaria, throwing the blossoms one by one smilingly into her lap. “I do not ask you, my friend,” she said slowly, “for the devotion of a lifetime--there are hardly enough to go round of these blossoms--we must not stop at passionately, must we--we must stop at not at all! I was thinking of spending three days in Naples.” “And you would expect me to leave you in three days?” asked Léon reproachfully. He watched her feverishly. A man must know what he is in for. “In three days,” said Madame, throwing all the silvery mauve blossoms with a quick little gesture over the balcony, “I should insist upon your leaving me.” As she did this her small, firm hand touched his. He caught it to his lips and kissed it fervently. The smile in her eyes deepened. She supposed he must have stopped thinking of Rose, but he said again, after a moment’s pause, “To leave her--to leave her--that seems somehow very base!” “Then do not leave her,” said Madame wearily, withdrawing her hand. “Break your word to me, it is very simple. I have no claim on you--I am not your wife.” “You are everything in the world to me,” he said desperately. For the moment he believed she was. She leaned forward a little. “After all,” she said, “your wife will not know why you go to Naples. You have only to say you go on business. She is so innocent she will believe you--you might even tell her that you are to act as my escort back to my husband. She need not suffer.” Léon flung back his head. “But,” he stammered, his eyes filling with sudden tears, “I cannot lie to Rose! She is not like that! I cannot lie to her--it is as you say, she would believe me!” “Ah,” said Madame, “let us hope then that you can lie about women better than you can lie to them! But you are making a mistake. It is very easy to lie to us. All men have found it so.” He pushed her words away from him. “Elise,” he asked her suddenly, “do you care for me? This thing that you are about to do, is it from your heart?” She rose and stood beside him. “I will give you the proof,” she said in a low voice.