But when later you shall come to hear the truth--when, after I am gone, they may tell you a strange story touching this fellow Lesperon who sought the hospitality of your father's house--bethink you of my restraint in this hour; bethink you of my departure.

You will understand these things perhaps afterwards.

But bethink you of them, and you will unriddle them for yourself, perhaps.
Be merciful upon me then; judge me not over-harshly." I paused, and for a moment we were silent.

Then suddenly she looked up; her fingers tightened upon mine.
"Monsieur de Lesperon," she pleaded, "of what do speak?
You are torturing me, monsieur." "Look in my face, Roxalanne.

Can you see nothing there of how I am torturing myself ?" "Then tell me, monsieur," she begged, her voice a very caress of suppliant softness,--"tell me what vexes you and sets a curb upon your tongue.