"Tell me now," she begged. "Tell me who you are."
Sorely was I tempted to respond. Almost was I on the point of doing so, when suddenly the thought of how she might shrink from me, of how, even then, she might come to think that I had but simulated love for her for infamous purposes of gain, restrained and silenced me. During the few hours of life that might be left me I would at least be lord and master of her heart. When I was dead--for I had little hope of Castelroux's efforts--it would matter less, and perhaps because I was dead she would be merciful.
"I cannot, Roxalanne. Not even now. It is too vile! If--if they carry out the sentence on Monday, I shall leave a letter for you, telling you everything."
She shuddered, and a sob escaped her. From my identity her mind fled back to the more important matter of my fate.
"They will not carry it out, monsieur! Oh, they till not! Say that you can defend yourself, that you are not the man they believe you to be!"
"We are in God's hands, child. It may be that I shall save myself yet. If I do, I shall come straight to you, and you shall know all that there is to know. But, remember, child"--and raising her face in my hands, I looked down into the blue of her tearful eyes--"remember, little one, that in one thing I have been true and honourable, and influenced by nothing but my heart--in my wooing of you. I love you, Roxalanne, with all my soul, and if I should die you are the only thing in all this world that I experience a regret at leaving."
"I do believe it; I do, indeed. Nothing can ever alter my belief again. Will you not, then, tell me who you are, and what is this thing, which you call dishonourable, that brought you into Languedoc?"
A moment again I pondered. Then I shook my head.
"Wait, child," said I; and she, obedient to my wishes, asked no more.
It was the second time that I neglected a favourable opportunity of making that confession, and as I had regretted having allowed the first occasion to pass unprofited, so was I, and still more poignantly, to regret this second silence.
A little while she stayed with me yet, and I sought to instil some measure of comfort into her soul. I spoke of the hopes that I based upon Castelroux's finding friends to recognize me--hopes that were passing slender. And she, poor child, sought also to cheer me and give me courage.