"Fear nothing! I will not abuse the words which have escaped you,
however flattering or charming they may have been; they told me that you
loved me. I do not believe it any longer; you are agitated, I can see;
but it is from fear and not love."

Clemence drew herself up upon the divan, crossed her arms over her breast
and gazed at him for a few moments in silence.

"Do you believe these two sentiments incompatible?" she asked at last;
"you are the only one whom I fear. Others would not complain."

There was such irresistible charm in her voice and glance that Gerfaut's
ill-humor melted away like ice in the sun's rays. He fell upon his knees
before the divan, and tried to pass her arms about his neck as before;
but instead of lending herself to this project, she attempted to rise.

"I am so happy at your feet," he said, gently preventing her. "Everybody
else can sit beside you; I only have the right to kneel. Do not take
this right away from me."

Madame de Bergenheim extricated one of her hands, and, raising her finger
with a threatening gesture, she said:

"Think a little less of your rights, and more of your duties. I advise
you to obey me and to profit by my kindness, which allows you to sit by
my side for a moment. Think that I might be more severe, and that if I
treated you as you merited--if I told you to go away, would you obey me?"

Gerfaut hesitated a moment and looked at her supplicatingly.