"Amélie, since we were together at the mill of Adhemar, I have thought only of you. I had been a madcap; I became serious and high-minded. I had cared only for Parisian follies and wild hunts in the forests; these I renounced, for they ceased to charm me. My mother had arranged for me a brilliant marriage. You know of Germaine de Marigny whose lineage includes crusader knights. Well, I broke the troth, regardless of consequences. I asked you not whence you came nor whither you went. You had said that your father was a mechanic in London and that your life had been passed almost in indigence. When I thought of my rank and estates, 'twas to reflect with pride that I should surround my wife with every luxury. I knew that my mother would execrate and my uncle disinherit me. Nevertheless, I was determined to overleap all barriers and disregard almost everything that claimed my allegiance." "But having had time for reflection," Amélie remarked coldly, "you have concluded that you had almost committed a signal folly. I admit that you have decided wisely, and bid you now consider yourself free." She half turned from the grating, but he seized one of her hands, then her soft white wrist and passionately kissed it. "No, no! You are unjust, Amélie. You force me now to say what I would withhold. Listen. When my mother vehemently declared that a de Brezé should never give his name to a woman of humble origin, I replied that the most illustrious ladies of France could not outrival you, and that beauty and goodness are entitled to the very highest social distinction." "But your mother has at length convinced you that you uttered but the enthusiastic hyperboles of a too ardent lover." She felt him tremble as he grasped her hands tightly and continued: "I know not what deity established the code of honor. We hold honor to be even more sacredly binding than religion. A gentleman may sin a hundred times daily, but not once does he violate the obligations bequeathed him by his fathers. Life and happiness are worth much less than honor, Amélie." "Well?" she asked, trying to speak calmly, but in vain. "O my Love," cried the man, "forgive me, forgive me, for I am about to wound you cruelly. My mother, who had of late refrained from opposing my attachment to you, called me to her yesterday and shut the door upon us. Then she said: 'René, after vainly striving for months to change your purpose, I withdrew my opposition, fearing that I was unduly imposing my maternal authority. You were free, in possession of your patrimony and twenty-seven years of age. So I resigned myself to the mésalliance and began to interest myself in the antecedents of your idol. I wrote to Spandau, the sometime residence of her people, with the result--" He could not continue, but Amélie haughtily commanded: "Go on!"