see
it--might read it. Frowenfeld broke the seal and ran his eye over the
writing, but remained silent.

The woman stirred, as if to say "Well?" But he hesitated.

"Palmyre," he suddenly said, with a slight, dissuasive smile, "it would
be a profanation for me to read this."

She bowed to signify that she caught his meaning, then raised her elbows
with an expression of dubiety, and said:

"'E hask you--"

"Yes," murmured the apothecary. He shook his head as if to protest to
himself, and read in a low but audible voice:

"Star of my soul, I approach to die. It is not for me
possible to live without Palmyre. Long time have I so done,
but now, cut off from to see thee, by imprisonment, as it may
be called, love is starving to death. Oh, have pity on the
faithful heart which, since ten years, change not, but forget
heaven and earth for you. Now in the peril of the life,
hidden away, that absence from the sight of you make his
seclusion the more worse than death. Halas! I pine! Not other
ten years of despair can I commence. Accept this love. If so
I will live for you, but if to the contraire, I must die for
you. Is there anything at all what I will not give or even do
if Palmyre will be my wife? Ah, no, far otherwise, there is
nothing!" ...

Frowenfeld looked over the top of the letter. Palmyre sat with her eyes
cast down, slowly shaking her head. He returned his glance to the page,
coloring somewhat with annoyance at being made a proposing medium.

"The English is very faulty here," he said, without looking up. "He
mentions Bras-Coupe." Palmyre started and turned toward him; but he went
on without lifting his eyes. "He speaks of your old pride and affection
toward him as one who with your aid might have been a leader and
deliverer of his people." Frowenfeld looked up. "Do you under--"

"_Allez, Miche_" said she, leaning forward, her great eyes fixed on the
apothecary and her face full of distress. "_Mo comprend bien_."

"He asks you to let him be to you in the place of Bras-Coupe."

The eyes of the philosophe, probably for the first time since the death
of the giant, lost their pride. They gazed upon Frowenfeld almost with
piteousness; but she compressed her lips and again slowly shook
her head.

"You see," said Frowenfeld, suddenly feeling a new interest, "he
understands their wants. He knows their wrongs. He is acquainted with
laws and men. H