At eight o'clock I have decided to commit suicide, for I am ruined. The
only hope left me is to win your pardon before I die."

"I suppose your uncle has disowned you?" she said. "Naturally! It was a
pretty situation to put him in. How would you care to be in it
yourself?"

"Alas, mademoiselle," sighed Tricotrin, "there are situations to which
a poor poet may not aspire!"

After regarding him silently she exclaimed, "I cannot understand what a
boy with eyes like yours saw in Leonie?"

"Merely good nature and a means to an end, believe me! If you would
ease my last moments, reinstate her in your service. Do not let me
drown with the knowledge that another is suffering for my fault!
Mademoiselle, I entreat you--take her back!"

"And why should I ease your last moments?" she demurred.

"Because I have no right to ask it; because I have no defence for my
sin towards you; because you would be justified in trampling on me--and
to pardon would be sublime!"

"You are very eloquent for my maid," returned the lady.

He shook his head. "Ah, no--I fear I am pleading for myself. For, if
you reinstate the girl, it will prove that you forgive the man--and I
want your forgiveness so much!" He fell at her feet.