hen he arrived, as soon as
they were alone, he swung her about in his arms and cried in a strangled
voice:

"Swear to me that you have been faithful."

"I swear."

"Gabriel Lombardi"?

"I can't abide him".

"Ah, if I had never told you to lie to me--fool that I was."

Then she said calmly, with that deep conviction which always moved him:
"Ben, when you asked me that, I told you I would never lie. I have told
you the truth. No man has ever had the pressure of my fingers, and no
man ever will."

So intense had been his emotion that he had almost a paroxysm. When he
opened his eyes he found her face wet with tears.

"Ah, Madeleine," he said, "I am brutal with you. I cannot help it."

"I would not have you love me differently," she said gently, and through
her tears he seemed to see a faint, elusive smile, that was gone quickly
if it was ever there at all.

Another time, he said to himself: "No, I will say nothing. She will come
to me herself, put her arms around me, and tell me with a smile that no
other thought has been in her heart all this while. That's it. If I wait
she will make the move, she will make the move each time--and that will
be much better."

He waited three days, but she made no allusion. He waited another, and
then he said lightly:

"You see, I am reforming."

"How so?"

"Why, I don't ask foolish questions any more."

"That's so."

"Still--"

"Well?" she said, looking up.

"Still, you might have guessed what I wanted," he answered, a little
hurt.

She rose quickly and came lightly to him, putting her hand on his
shoulder.

"Is that what you wish?" she said.

"Yes."

She repeated slowly her protestations and when she had ended, said,
"Take me in your arms--hurt me."

"Now she will understand," he thought; "the next time she will not
wait."

But each time, though he martyrized his soul in patience, he was forced
to bring up the question that would not let him rest.

He could not understand why she did not save him this useless agony.
Sometimes when he wanted to find an excuse he said to himself it was
because she felt humiliated that he should still doubt. At other times,
he stumbled on explanations that terrified him. Then he remembered with
bitterness the promise that he had exacted from her, a promise that,
instead of bringing him peace, had left only an endless torment, and
forgetting all his protestations he would cry to himself, in a cold
perspiration:

"Ah, if