Her bosom rose and fell in agitation, and the little hand I held trembled in my grasp.

There was a moment's silence.

Not that I had need to think or choose my words.

But there was a lump in my throat--aye, I take no shame in confessing it, for this was the first time that a good and true emotion had been vouchsafed me since the Duchesse de Bourgogne had shattered my illusions ten years ago.
"Roxalanne," I resumed presently, when I was more master of myself, "we have been good friends, you and I, since that night when I climbed for shelter to your chamber, have we not ?" "But yes, monsieur," she faltered.
"Ten days ago it is.

Think of it--no more than ten days.