"The way is easy to a hundred times as much," he said, in a low meaning voice, and his eyes boldly held hers.

"You are doing a chivalrous sort of thing that only a woman would do--for duty; do something for another reason: for what a woman would do--for the blood of youth that is in her." He reached out a hand to lay it on her arm.

"Ask of me what you will, if you but put your hand in mine and--" "Monsieur," she said, pale and gasping, "do you think so ill of me then?
Do I seem to you like--!" She turned away, her eyes dry and burning, her body trembling with shame.
"You are here alone with me at night," he persisted.

"It would not be easy to--" "Death would be easy, Monsieur," she said calmly and coldly.

"My husband tried to kill you.