He could not see her face, but there was a flash in her voice that startled him with its indignant contempt and resentment.
"What are you saying, Miss Roussillon?
I don't understand you.

When did I ever--when did I jab you with my sword?
I never thought of such a thing." "This moment, sir, you did, and you know you did.

My arm is bleeding now." She spoke rapidly in French; but he caught her meaning, and for the first became aware of the rapier in his hand.

Even then its point was toward her and very near her breast.

He lowered it instantly while the truth rushed into his mind.
"Forgive me," he murmured, his words barely audible in the tumult of wind and rain, but charged with the intensest feeling.
"Forgive me; I did not know--it was an accident--I could not do such a thing purposely.