Confession and avowal--confession of what I had undertaken, and avowal of the love that had so unexpectedly come to me--trembled upon my lips, to be driven shuddering away in fear.
Have I not said that this Bardelys was become a coward?
Then my cowardice suggested a course to me--flight.

I would leave Lavedan.

I would return to Paris and to Chatellerault, owning defeat and paying my wager.

It was the only course open to me.

My honour, so tardily aroused, demanded no less.