“It would be worthy of a man who could commit such an unutterable meanness--and without a shadow of excuse.” “O, I had my excuse! I was uncertain of your fidelity; and you see how I was justified in my doubt. Then this opportunity offered, and I couldn’t resist taking it.” “It was Gaspare, I suppose. You corrupt everybody and everything you touch. Well, you know now I hate you.” “All’s one for that. It’s not your hate but your love that we’ve got to reckon with. A nightingale, forsooth! That hired automaton--that painted jackdaw mimicking his betters! You shall answer for the insult.” “What are you going to do?” “I told you.” Actually, with the words, he unbuttoned the hatch and stepped forth. She crouched away from him, huddled within the curtain, her breath coming quick. The church was quite empty and silent. “Come to my loving arms, Fanchette.” She uttered a little whimper. “If you were not such a vain fool you would understand.” “Understand what?” “That, knowing who you were, I should not so have betrayed myself, if it had been true.” “It is not true, then?” “It is true I _do_ pity him--and her.” “Pity excites a fonder feeling. You have said it.” She hesitated, saw no way out of the _impasse_, and took refuge in the long-threatened collapse. He succumbed at once. “O, hush, girl, for heaven’s sake! All the world will hear you.” “O--O! I don’t care. To be so doubted and put upon; to have served this man as I have; stifled my better feelings for his sake; sought to ruin a mistress, who has never shown me anything but kindness; as good as offered to be the chevalier’s abettor and their go-between--and then to be treated as if I were a perfide and a wanton! I will never give my heart to anyone again; I will beg admission into a convent and end my days a spouse of heaven! O--O!” He was terrified. He knelt down by the struggling figure, and crushed it within his arms, seeking to suffocate its outcries. “Fanchette--you are betraying us--for God’s sake compose yourself! There, there, girl--I did not mean it. I believe you, on my soul, to be true to me. We must make our compact binding--indissoluble--never to be questioned from this time by either of us. Come with me--through the sacristy. Gaspare is always my friend--he will be my friend again--and the priest is safe elsewhere. Any moment may bring discovery upon us. Come, lovely and adorable--let us kiss and forgive. Fanchette!” Little by little, coaxing and caressing, he got her to her feet and away with him. Father Leone, pacing his garden, was left undisturbed to his vegetable meditations, and Fanchette’s conscience had to defer its unloading to a more convenient opportunity. CHAPTER XV. A BOLT FROM THE BLUE