If she is brave, she rises,
announces that she is present, and sits down again. A stroke of the sword
is not for her. She must not only avenge herself, but she must make her
own weapons. Some one suspects her; who? An outsider? She may hold him in
contempt. Her lover whom she loves? If so, it is her life that is in
question, and she may not despise him."
"Her only recourse is silence."
"You are wrong, the lover who suspects her casts an aspersion on her
entire life, I know it; her plea is her tears, her past life, her
devotion and her patience. What will happen if she remains silent? Her
lover will lose her by her own act and time will justify her. Is not that
your thought?"
"Perhaps; silence before all."
"Perhaps, you say? Assuredly I will lose you if you do not speak; my
resolution is made: I am going away alone."
"But, Octave--"
"But," I cried, "time will justify you! Let us put an end to it; yes or
no?"
"Yes, I hope so."
"You hope so! Will you answer me definitely? This is, doubtless, the last
time you will have the opportunity. You tell me that you love me, and I
believe it. I suspect you; is it your intention to allow me to go away
and rely on time to justify you?"
"Of what do you suspect me?"
"I do not choose to say, for I see that it would be useless. But, after
all, misery for misery, at your leisure; I am as well pleased. You
deceive me, you love another; that is your secret and mine.
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