"it is you who are mistaken, and
I will show you how. But first: You have said often that I have unusual
intelligence. You have flattered me in that, I doubt not, but still
here is a chance to prove yourself sincere. I shall pass by every wicked
means that you took first to ruin me, to divert me to a dishonest love
(though I knew not what you meant at the time), and, failing, to make
me your wife. I shall not refer to this base means to reach me in this
sacred place, using the King's commission for such a purpose."

"I would use it again and do more, for the same ends," he rejoined, with
shameless candour.

She waved her hand impatiently. "I pass all that by. You shall listen to
me as I have listened to you, remembering that what I say is honest,
if it has not your grace and eloquence. You say that I will yet come to
you, that I care for you and have cared for you always, and that--that
this other--is a sad infatuation. Monsieur, in part you are right."

He came another step forward, for he thought he saw a foothold again;
but she drew back to the chair, and said, lifting her hand against him,
"No, no, wait till I have done. I say that you are right in part. I will
not deny that, against my will, you have always influenced me; that, try
as I would, your presence moved me, and I could never put you out of my
mind, out of my life. At first I did not understand it, for I knew how
bad you were. I was sure you did evil because you loved it; that to
gratify yourself you would spare no one: a man without pity--"

"On the contrary," he interrupted, with a sour sort of smile, "pity is
almost a foible with me."

"Not real pity," she answered. "Monsieur, I have lived long enough to
know what pity moves you. It is the moment's careless whim; a pensive
pleasure, a dramatic tenderness. Wholesome pity would make you hesitate
to harm others. You have no principles--"

"Pardon me, many," he urged politely, as he eyed her with admiration.

"Ah no, monsieur; habits, not principles. Your life has been one long
irresponsibility. In the very maturity of your powers, you use them
to win to yourself, to your empty heart, a girl who has tried to live
according to the teachings of her soul and conscience. Were there not
women elsewhere to whom it didn't matter--your abandoned purposes? Why
did you throw your shadow on my path? You are not, never were, worthy of
a good woman's love."

He laughed with a sort of bitterness. "Your sinner st