"For she did not speak. Mademoiselle, listen!" he continued,
turning with outstretched hands and appealing to her with passion. "Do
you hear? Do you understand? You have but to speak to be free! You
have but to say the word, and Monsieur lets you go! In God's name,
speak! Speak then, Clotilde! Oh!" with a gesture of despair, as she did
not answer, but continued to sit stony and hopeless, looking straight
before her, her hands picking convulsively at the fringe of her girdle.
"She does not understand! Fright has stunned her! Be merciful,
Monsieur. Give her time to recover, to know what she does. Fright has
turned her brain."
Count Hannibal smiled. "I knew her father and her uncle," he said, "and
in their time the Vrillacs were not wont to be cowards. Monsieur
forgets, too," he continued with fine irony, "that he speaks of my
betrothed."
"It is a lie!"
Tavannes raised his eyebrows. "You are in my power," he said. "For the
rest, if it be a lie, Mademoiselle has but to say so."
"You hear him?" Tignonville cried. "Then speak, Mademoiselle! Clotilde,
speak! Say you never spoke, you never promised him!"
The young man's voice quivered with indignation, with rage, with pain;
but most, if the truth be told, with shame--the shame of a position
strange and unparalleled.
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