"Afraid!" repeated Arnold, puzzled about her meaning. Then he realized what she meant. "No, mademoiselle, not of that. Only four people know who the White Knight was--Apor, Francis, you, and I. Besides, the Reds are being imprisoned in their hundreds. Many will hang. The rest are too busy hiding to worry about revenge." "Then why has he fled from us all?" she demanded. "Because--because of his scars," he answered slowly. "Poor Geoffrey. You see, he was so handsome before--before they came. And now! Somehow I cannot blame him; I feel everything he suffers. They make him horrible, mademoiselle, horrible--almost too hideous for a man to look at unmoved, and still less a--a woman!" There was an unconscious undercurrent in his voice as he spoke the last few words, and she turned to him. "Why do you say that? Why should he be more hideous to a woman?" Arnold was embarrassed. "I--I do not know, but you see, mademoiselle, it always seems to men that women should be brought into contact only with the--the pretty things of this world. We try to keep the ugly things to ourselves." "I know--and yet some women say men are selfish." She paused, but only for a few seconds. "Monsieur, supposing I brought you here for two reasons? One for the sake of--of memories, and the other to talk to you, alone and privately! "Listen! That awful, terrible day when I betrayed the White Knight he called me 'Delilah.' Why, why did he say that to me? Has he ever explained to you?" "No, mademoiselle," Arnold answered sadly. "He would not let me speak to him on the subject of his capture." "Why not?" she demanded, but he was silent. "Yet I believe I can answer myself. Was it because he thought I had deliberately betrayed him?" "I--I do not know." "But you suspect...? Again you are silent, monsieur, and your silence is your answer. Holy Mary! Why cannot he realize the truth? I--I to betray the White Knight! Sooner would I have cut off my own tongue than willingly betray the man who saved my father from death, and me from far worse. Oh, Mother in Heaven, why can he not realize the truth?" Arnold did not speak. He felt as if he were being permitted to look upon a woman's soul--that it would have been sacrilege for him to speak. There was a sob in her voice, and she struggled with her emotion, but presently conquering it she continued: "Is that the only reason the White Knight has disappeared, Monsieur Arnold? Is the mere fact of a woman betraying him sufficient to drive him away for ever, or is there another reason? Tell me. I command you, monsieur, if you value a woman's happiness, answer me the truth." "The truth ... mademoiselle, he worships the ground you walk on, but ... but ... because of his scars..." "And what of my betrayal of him?" "He would ... he has, I am sure ... forgiven you that."