Through all the fear that now possessed her rose the consideration of this man--this man whom she had almost confessed half-shamedly to herself that she loved, that night on the Liege road; this man who at every turn amazed her and filled her with a new sense of his strength and dignity.
Then, bethinking her of Ombreval and of her mission, she took her courage in both hands, and, advancing a step, she cast herself upon her knees before Caron.
"Monsieur, forgive me," she besought him.

"I meant you no insult.

How could I, when my every wish is to propitiate you?
Bethink you, Monsieur, I have journeyed all the way from Prussia to save that man, because my hon--because he is my betrothed.

Remember, Monsieur, you held out to me the promise in your letter that if I came you would treat with me, and that I might buy his life from you." "Why, so I did," he answered, touched by her humiliation and her tears.
"But you went too fast in your conclusions." "Forgive me that.

See! I am on my knees to you.