had up the whole angry pride of the man in arms, and could discern that
she had struck the wound in his history; but he was terrible to look at,
so she made the charge supportable by saying:

'You have stolen my child from me!'

Clotilde raised her throat, shrewish in excitement. 'False! He did not.
I went to him of my own will, to run from your heartlessness, mother--
that I call mother!--and be out of hearing of my father's curses and
threats. Yes, to him I fled, feeling that I belonged more to him than to
you. And never will I return to you. You have killed my love; I am this
man's own because I love him only; him ever! him you abuse, as his
partner in life for all it may give!--as his wife! Trample on him, you
trample on me. Make black brows at your child for choosing the man, of
all men alive, to worship and follow through the world. I do. I am his.
I glory in him.'

Her gaze on Alvan said: 'Now!' Was she not worthy of him now? And would
they not go forth together now? Oh! now!

Her gaze was met by nothing like the brilliant counterpart she merited.
It was as if she had offered her beauty to a glass, and found a
reflection in dull metal. He smiled calmly from her to her mother. He
said:

'You accuse me of stealing your child, madame. You shall acknowledge
that you have wronged me. Clotilde, my Clotilde! may I count on you to
do all and everything for me? Is there any sacrifice I could ask that
would be too hard for you? Will you at one sign from me go or do as I
request you?'