She took my head between her two beautiful hands, and exclaimed:

"Ah, I was right! I knew quite well that you were not one of those reprobates. You are going to save me, aren't you? Thank God! How I thank you, O God! Must we jump from the window? Oh, I am not afraid; come--come!"

I seemed as if awakened from a dream, and, I confess, the awakening was not a little painful.

"What does this mean?" I asked, as I rose to my feet. "Are you still jesting with me? Do you not know where you are? Do you think that I am a child?"

"I know that I am at Roche-Mauprat," she replied, turning pale again, "and that I shall be outraged and assassinated in a couple of hours, if meanwhile I do not succeed in inspiring you with some pity. But I shall succeed," she cried, falling at my feet in her turn; "you are not one of those men. You are too young to be a monster like them. I could see from your eyes that you pitied me. You will help me to escape, won't you, won't you, my dear heart?"

She took my hands and kissed them frenziedly, in the hope of moving me. I listened and looked at her with a sullen stupidity scarcely calculated to reassure her. My heart was naturally but little accessible to feelings of generosity and compassion, and at this moment a passion stronger than all the rest was keeping down the impulse she had striven to arouse. I devoured her with my eyes, and made no effort to understand her words. I only wished to discover whether I was pleasing to her, or whether she was trying to make use of me to effect her escape.

"I see that you are afraid," I said. "You are wrong to be afraid of me. I shall certainly not do you any harm. You are too pretty for me to think of anything but of caressing you."

"Yes; but your uncles will kill me," she cried; "you know they will. Surely you would not have me killed? Since you love me, save me; I will love you afterwards."