"Since I have been away," he said brutally, "there has been no one else in your heart? You have been true to me, to our love?" "I have been true," she answered with a little smile. He held his eyes on hers a long while, hesitating whether to be silent or to continue, and then, all at once, convinced, burst into tears and begged her pardon. "Oh, I shouldn't have asked it--forgive me." "Do whatever is easiest for you, my love," she answered. "There is nothing to forgive. I understand all. I love you for it." Only she never asked him any questions, and that alarmed him. The second time report had coupled her name with a Gabriel Lombardi, a great baritone with whom she was appearing. When he arrived, as soon as they were alone, he swung her about in his arms and cried in a strangled voice: "Swear to me that you have been faithful." "I swear." "Gabriel Lombardi"? "I can't abide him". "Ah, if I had never told you to lie to me--fool that I was." Then she said calmly, with that deep conviction which always moved him: "Ben, when you asked me that, I told you I would never lie. I have told you the truth. No man has ever had the pressure of my fingers, and no man ever will." So intense had been his emotion that he had almost a paroxysm. When he opened his eyes he found her face wet with tears. "Ah, Madeleine," he said, "I am brutal with you. I cannot help it." "I would not have you love me differently," she said gently, and through her tears he seemed to see a faint, elusive smile, that was gone quickly if it was ever there at all. Another time, he said to himself: "No, I will say nothing. She will come to me herself, put her arms around me, and tell me with a smile that no other thought has been in her heart all this while. That's it. If I wait she will make the move, she will make the move each time--and that will be much better." He waited three days, but she made no allusion. He waited another, and then he said lightly: "You see, I am reforming." "How so?" "Why, I don't ask foolish questions any more." "That's so." "Still--" "Well?" she said, looking up. "Still, you might have guessed what I wanted," he answered, a little hurt. She rose quickly and came lightly to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Is that what you wish?" she said. "Yes." She repeated slowly her protestations and when she had ended, said, "Take me in your arms--hurt me." "Now she will understand," he thought; "the next time she will not wait." But each time, though he martyrized his soul in patience, he was forced to bring up the question that would not let him rest.