And when M'sieur spoke to me, I didn't know
what to do. My heart was all given to Andoche, but--well, M'sieur, the
truth is, I began to think of my little girl, and I said to myself, I
must think of her, because, M'sieur, I thought of the position it would
give her, if I were a Comtesse. What a step in the world, eh? And I
said, you must do it for her! So I went to Andoche, and I told him
all--yes, all, M'sieur--that my heart was his, but that my duty was to
her. And Andoche, ah, what a good heart, M'sieur--he understood--we wept
together." She choked a minute, put her handkerchief hastily to her
eyes, "Pardon, M'sieur; and he said it was right, and I kissed him--I
hide nothing, M'sieur will pardon me that,--and he went away!" She took
a step toward him, twisting her handkerchief, adding in a timid appeal:
"M'sieur understands why I tell him that? M'sieur will believe me. I
have killed all that. It is no more in my heart. I swear it by the image
of St. Jacques d'Acquin."
"Madame, I knew it before," said the Comte, rising; "still, I thank
you.
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