"My brother had to live--you made him live. To kill himself is the worst disgrace that a Basque can put upon his family. Besides, the thing was done; you had fired into the air; nothing that he might do would undo that. At the bridge he tried to tell you so, but you rode by. You know--my brother told it you--that one reason which allows a foreigner to marry a Basque. We Eskurolas pay our debts; to let you go a creditor for that was to put a stain upon our house indelibly. I would have accepted the disgrace and made my brother continue to accept it, had you not now said that you still loved me; but you have said it. Oh, do--do, please, understand!" She stamped her foot. "My brother is the last man of our name. In saving him, you saved the house of Eskurola." Cartaret was seized by the same impulse toward hysteria that had seized him when he first faced Don Ricardo's pistol. "Was _that_ what he tried to say at the bridge? What a fool I was not to listen! If I had all the world to give, I'd give it to you!" He tried to seize her hand again, but she drew it away. "And so," she said, with a crooked smile and a flaming face, "since you say that you love me, I--I have to pay the just debt of my house and save its honor--I must marry you whether I love you or not." He looked at her with fear renewed. "Then you _have_ changed?" he asked. Suddenly she put her own right hand to her lips and kissed the fingers on which his lips had rested. "You have all the world," she said.... "Give it me." He found both of her hands this time, but still she kept him from her. The scent of the lilacs mingled with another scent--a scent that made him see again the tall Cantabrians.... Suddenly he realized that she was wearing her student-blouse. "You've been here--When did you come back to Paris?" "A week ago." "To this house?" "Of _course_ I am living in this house as before, and with your friend Chitta. You know that I could not have lived anywhere else in Paris. I _couldn't_. So I took the old room--the dear little old room--again." "_Before_ you knew that I still loved you!" She hung her head. "But I'll surely never let you go this time." He held her hands fast as if fearing that she might escape him. "No custom--no law--no force could take you now. Tell me: would you have wanted to go back?" She freed herself. That newer perfume filled the purple twilight: the pure perfume of the Azure Rose that the wandering Basque carries with him abroad to bring him safely home. She drew the rose from beneath her blouse and held it out to him. Cartaret kissed it. She took it back, kissed it too, went to the nearest window and, tearing the flower petal from petal, dropped it into the Paris street.