He thought of his own life and of hers, hitherto side by side, and he thought of their joint life in, the future, she taking him for what he was not, and he was ashamed.
In the first moment he had a brave impulse to tell her everything and be a man, even if he ruined the woman he had loved so long, as well as the brother who bore his name.

It was only an impulse, and his lips remained sealed and his face calm.
"I do thank you," he said in a low voice, when he had kissed her hand that second time.

"I will do what I can to make you happy." Yet he knew now, from the strength of that passing impulse, that if she had not spoken first, he would not have asked her directly to marry him.
Twenty times during that long day, alone in his room, he had sworn that he would not marry her, whatever happened.

For it was not enough that Matilde had set him free, and that he had rejoiced for one hour in his liberty.

That was not enough.