"Denise, I give you my word of honour that I would not have intruded on you, but that you asked to see me, and I thought you knew whom you wished to see. Besides, I felt that I owed a little to myself. You have accused me of being a dishonoured gentleman, of being little less than a common bravo, of wedding you to your misery for your estates." He came forward a step and looked me full in the face with his clear strong eyes. "As God is my witness," he went on, "you are utterly mistaken. I am going to-day on an affair the issue of which no one can foresee. Think! Would I go with a lie on my lips? Answer me--tell me. Whatever else you may think, you do not believe this." I was fumbling with one of his gloves, and could not meet his look. "You put me in a difficult position, monsieur--this is your own house." He looked about him with a bitter smile. "Yes--it is my house--hardly the house to which one would bring the heiress of Mieux--but is that your answer to me?" And still I was silent. I could not bring myself to say what he wanted. And now too it was not only pride that was holding me back. I felt that if I gave him the answer he wished, manlike he would begin to press his love on me, and I was not prepared for this. I did not know my own feelings towards him; but of one thing I was sure--I would not be bound by hollow vows that were forced upon me, and so I fenced. "This adventure of yours, monsieur--is it so very dangerous?" "It is not the danger I am thinking of. It is your faith in my honour. No man is blameless, and least of all I. I own I was wrong--that I sinned grievously in marrying you as I have. My excuse is that I love you--that is a thing I cannot control. But I will do all I can to make reparation. I will never see you again, and the times are such that you may soon be as free as air. All that I ask is this one thing." "But, monsieur, have you no proof--nothing to bring forward?" "I have nothing to offer but my word." "Your word--your word--is that all you can say?" He bowed slightly in reply, but his look was hungry for his answer. Still I could not give it, and played with time. "You say you love me. Does love resign its object as you do--without a struggle? If I believe one thing I must believe all, monsieur. I cannot believe a profession of love like yours"--how false I knew this to be--"and the rest must follow." He twisted at his moustache in the old way, and I saw his sunburnt face grow, as it were on a sudden, wan and haggard, and the pity that lies in all women's hearts rose within me. "Monsieur le Chevalier, if you were to get the answer that you wanted, would you still adhere to your promise and never see me again?" "I have said so," he said hoarsely. "Then, monsieur, let me tell you that I have found I was wrong, and that I do believe your word--nay, more, monsieur, I have found de Lorgnac to be a gallant gentleman--whom Denise de Mieux has to thank for her honour and her life----"