ontrive to
do so!" cried Rigolette, in a transport of joy.

"And it is in the midst of the horrors of a prison, and when all
conspires to overwhelm me, that such happiness--"

Germain could not conclude. This thought reminded him of the reality of
his position. His scruples, for a moment lost sight of, returned more
severe than ever, and he said, with despair:

"But I am a prisoner--I am accused of robbery; I shall be
sentenced--dishonoured, perhaps! And I cannot accept of your generous
sacrifice--profit by your noble excitement. Oh, no, no; I am not such a
villain as that!"

"What do you say?"

"I may be sentenced to several years' imprisonment."

"Well," replied Rigolette, with calmness and firmness, "they shall see
that I am an honest girl, and they will not refuse to marry us in the
prison chapel."

"But I may be put in prison at a distance from Paris."

"Once your wife, I will follow you and settle in the city where you may
be. I shall find work there, and can see you every day."

"But I shall be disgraced in the eyes of all."

"You love me better than any one--don't you?"

"Can you ask me such a question?"

"Then of what consequence is it? So far from considering you as
disgraced in my eyes, I shall consider you as the victim of your own
kind heart."

"But the world will accuse, condemn, calumniate your choice."

"The world! Are not you the world to me--I to you? So let it say as it
may!"

"Well, quitting prison at length, my life will be precarious--miserable.
Repulsed on all sides, I may, perhaps, find no employment, and then it
is appalling to think! But if this corruption which besets me should
seize on me in spite of myself, what a future for you!"

"You will never grow corrupted. No; for now you know that I love you,
this thought will give you the power of resisting bad examples. You will
reflect that if all repulse you when you quit your prison, your wife
will receive you with love and gratitude, assured, as she will be, that
you will still be an honest man. This language astonishes you, does it
not? It astonishes even myself. I do not know whence I derive all I say
to you; from the bottom of my soul, assuredly--and that must convince
you! That is, if you do not reject an offer made you most unreservedly,
if you do not desire to reject the love of a poor girl who has only--"

Germain interrupted Rigolette with impassioned voice:

"Yes, indeed--I do accept--I do accept! Yes, I feel it.