Suddenly the Comte de Camors appeared before her. She had believed that
she never should see him again. She raised her head quickly and pressed
one hand to her heart.

"Yes, it is I!" said Camors. "Give me your hand."

She gave it to him.

"You were right, Charlotte," he said, after a moment of silence. "Ties
like ours can not be broken. I have reflected on everything. I was
seized with a momentary cowardice, for which I have reproached myself
bitterly, and for which, moreover, I have been sufficiently punished.
But I come to you to ask your forgiveness."

The Marquise led him tenderly into the deep shadow of the great plane-
trees that surrounded the lake; she knelt before him with theatric grace,
and fixed on him her swimming eyes. She covered his head with kisses.
He raised her and pressed her to his heart.

"But you do not wish that crime to be committed?" he said in a low
voice.

She bent her head with mournful indecision.

"For that matter," he added, bitterly, "it would only make us worthier of
each other; for, as to myself, they have already believed me capable of
it."

He took her arm and recounted to her briefly the scene of the night
before.