She made a protest of her hand. "Oh, no! You never knew what love was--
never! You had passion, you had hunger of the body, but of love you did
not know. I know you, Barode Barouche. You have no heart, you have only
sentiment and imagination. No--no, you could not be true. You could
never know how."

Suddenly a tempest of fire seemed to burn in his eyes, in his whole
being. His face flushed: his eyes gleamed; his hands were thrust out
with passion.

"Will you not understand that were I as foul as hell, a woman like you
would make me clean again? The wild sin of our youth has eaten into the
soul of my life. You think I have been indifferent to you and to our
boy. No, never-never! That I left you both to yourselves was the best
proof I was not neglectful. I was sorry, with all my soul, that you
should have suffered through me. In the first reaction, I felt that
nothing could put me right with you or with eternal justice. So I shrank
away from you. You thought it was lust satisfied. I tell you it was
honour shamed. Good God! You thought me just the brazen roue, who
seized what came his way, who ate the fruit within his grasp, who lived
to deceive for his own selfish joy.

"Did you think that? Then, if you did, I do not wonder you should be glad
to see my son fighting me. It would seem the horrible revenge Destiny
should take." He took a step nearer to her. His face flamed, his arms
stretched out. "I have held you in these arms. I come with repentance
in my heart, with--"

Her face now was flushed. She interrupted him.