At last Joyselle came to her and took her in his arms. "Tell me that you
love me," he whispered, "and then--I can bear anything."
His unexpected resignation came, as so often is the case, rather as a
shock to her. It was true that she had of late, during the reign of
peace that had followed the last quarrel, been unusually happy, and that
the thought of marrying Theo had become more bearable than she would
have believed possible; the future had taken on an aspect of happy
family life with Joyselle and Felicite, in which Theo's part had been
pleasantly subordinate; more or less, although her mind had not
formulated it, that of a brother.
Yet now Joyselle's resigned attitude did not please her.
"Then--you don't mind my marrying--another man?" she retorted quickly,
instinctively using words that would hurt him.
He wiped his forehead, which was covered with small drops of
perspiration.
"Don't mind! But, _ma cherie_, you must not torture me. The situation as
it now is, is absolutely impossible. You don't understand. I love my
son, God knows! Yet I am not made of stone, and before the love paternal
He created the love of man for woman. I believe, as He hears me, that
you were meant for me; that you are my woman, and I your man; that you
were meant for me and I for you.
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