“Why did you not say to me long ago, ’I love you, but I am a wife; my husband is an honest soldier, absent, and fighting for France:  I am the guardian of his honor and my own; be just, be generous, be self-denying; depart and love me only as angels love’?  Perhaps this might have helped me to show you that I too am a man of honor.”

“Perhaps I was wrong,” sighed Josephine.  “I think I should have trusted more to you.  But then, who would have thought you could really doubt my love?  You were ill; I could not bear you to go till you were well, quite well.  I saw no other way to keep you but this, to treat you with feigned coldness.  You saw the coldness, but not what it cost me to maintain it.  Yes, I was unjust; and inconsiderate, for I had many furtive joys to sustain me:  I had you in my house under my care—­that thought was always sweet—­I had a hand in everything that was for your good, for your comfort.  I helped Jacintha make your soup and your chocolate every day.  I had the delight of lining the dressing-gown you were to wear.  I had always some little thing or other to do for you.  These kept me up:  I forgot in my selfishness that you had none of these supports, and that I was driving you to despair.  I am a foolish, disingenuous woman:  I have been very culpable.  Forgive me!”

“Forgive you, angel of purity and goodness?  I alone am to blame.  What right had I to doubt your heart?  I knew the whole story of your marriage; I saw your sweet pale face; but I was not pure enough to comprehend angelic virtue and unselfishness.  Well, I am brought to my senses.  There is but one thing for me to do—­you bade me leave you to-morrow.”

“I was very cruel.”

“No! not cruel, wise.  But I will be wiser.  I shall go to-night.”

“To-night, Camille?” said Josephine, turning pale.

“Ay! for to-night I am strong; to-morrow I may be weak.  To-night everything thrusts me on the right path.  To-morrow everything will draw me from it.  Do not cry, beloved one; you and I have a hard fight.  We must be true allies; whenever one is weak, then is the time for the other to be strong.  I have been weaker than you, to my shame be it said; but this is my hour of strength.  A light from heaven shows me my path.  I am full of passion, but like you I have honor.  You are Raynal’s wife, and—­Raynal saved my life.”

“Ah! is it possible?  When? where? may Heaven bless him for it!”

“Ask him; and say I told you of it—­I have not strength to tell it you, but I will go to-night.”

Then Josephine, who had resisted till all her strength was gone, whispered with a blush that it was too late to get a conveyance.

“I need none to carry my sword, my epaulets, and my love for you.  I shall go on foot.”

Josephine said nothing, but she began to walk slower and slower.  And so the unfortunate pair came along creeping slowly with drooping heads towards the gate of the Pleasaunce.  There their last walk in this world must end.  Many a man and woman have gone to the scaffold with hearts less heavy and more hopeful than theirs.