. . because. . . ." With a superb gesture of abandon
which swept aside all barriers, all hesitancies, all that hedging
convention which compels a woman to be silent, she said: "If you do not
immediately tell me that you still love me madly, I shall die of shame!"
"Diane!" He forced her hands from her burning face.
"Yes, yes; I love you, love you with all my soul; all, all! And I have
come to you this night in my shame, knowing that you would never have
come to me. Wait!" still pressing him back, for he was eager now to
make up in this exquisite moment all he had lost. "Oh, I tried to hate
you; lied to myself that I wanted nothing but to bring you to your
knees and then laugh at you. For each moment I have made you suffer I
have suffered an hour. Paul, Paul, can you love me still?"
He knelt, kissing her hands madly. "You are the breath of my life, the
coming of morning after a long night of darkness. Love you? With my
latest breath!"
"It was my heart you put your heel upon, for I loved you from the
moment I saw your miniature. Paul!" She bent her head till her cheek
rested upon his hair. "So many days have been wasted, so many days! I
have always loved you.
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