"In a fortnight will you not be my husband?
How should I distrust you?
It was only that while she talked, I waited--I waited; and--and that Madame St.Lo is Count Hannibal's cousin.

For a moment I was mad enough to dream that she held you on purpose.

You do not think it was so ?" "She!" he cried sharply; and he winced, as if the thought hurt him.
"Absurd! The truth is, Mademoiselle," he continued with a little heat, "you are like so many of our people! You think a Catholic capable of the worst." "We have long thought so at Vrillac," she answered gravely.
"That's over now, if people would only understand.

This wedding has put an end to all that.

But I'm harking back," he continued awkwardly; and he stopped.