Now I know that you, above all others, are pure and chaste." He tried to take her hands; she repulsed him with horror; and broke into a fit of passionate sobbing.
Of all the blows she had received this last was most terrible and overwhelming.
What humiliation and shame--! Now, indeed, was her cup of sorrow filled to overflowing.

"Chaste and pure!" he had said.

Oh, bitter mockery! But Martial misunderstood the meaning of the poor girl's gesture.
"Oh! I comprehend your indignation," he resumed, with growing eagerness.
"But if I have injured you even in thought, I now offer you reparation.
I have been a fool--a miserable fool--for I love you; I love, and can love you only.

I am the Marquis de Sairmeuse.

I am the possessor of millions.