Though she believed the girl, she would accuse the man, the more so, because she suddenly became aware that his eyes were fixed on herself in ardent admiration.
"You might not have a convenient window," she said, with deliberate, consuming suggestion.
His glance never wavered, though he understood instantly what she meant.
Well, she had discovered that! He flushed.
"Madame," he said, "I hope that I am a gentleman at heart." The whole scene came back on him, and a moisture sprang to his eyes.
"She is innocent," he continued--"upon my sacred honour! Yes, yes, I know that the evidence is all against me, but I speak the absolute truth.

You saw--that night, did you ?" She nodded.
"Ah, it is a pity--a pity.

But, madame, as you are a true woman, believe what I say; for, I repeat, it is the truth." Then, with admirable reticence, even great delicacy, he told the story as Elise had told it, and as convincingly.
"I believe you, monsieur," she said frankly, when he had done, and stretched out her hand to him with a sudden impulse of regard.

"Now, follow up that unselfishness by another." He looked inquiringly at her.
"Give up this mad chase," she added eagerly.
"Never!" was his instant reply.

"Never!" "I beg of you, I appeal to you-my friend," she urged, with that ardour of the counsel who pleads a bad cause.
"I do not impeach you or your claims, but I ask that you leave this village as you found it, these happy people undisturbed in their homes.
Ah, go! Go now, and you will be a name to them, remembered always with admiration.