God! - had thought him different from the ruck. She had held him in
high esteem, and behold, how short had he not fallen of all her
expectations! Shame and vanity combined to work a sudden, sharp
revulsion in his feelings.

"Marquise," he cried, "you say no more than what is just. But
punish me no further. I meant not what I said. I was beside
myself. Let me atone - let my future actions make amends for that
odious departure from my true self."

There was no scorn now in her smile; only an ineffable tenderness,
beholding which he felt it in his heart to hang if need be that
he might continue high in her regard. He sprang forward, and took
the hand she extended to him.

"I knew, Tressan," said she, "that you were not yourself, and that
when you bethought you of what you had said, my valiant, faithful
friend would not desert me."

He stooped over her hand, and slobbered kisses upon her
unresponsive glove.

"Madame," said he, "you may count upon me. This fellow out of
Paris shall have no men from me, depend upon it."

She caught him by the shoulders, and held him so, before her. Her
face was radiant, alluring; and her eyes dwelt on his with a kindness
he had never seen there save in some wild daydream of his.

"I will not refuse a service you offer me so gallantly," said she.