“How good you are!”

His own emotion was no less than hers. The humiliations of that day had taxed his fortitude, and the sense of his integrity beneath aspersion was like a bubbling fount of tears in outer darkness. The warm touch of her gratitude unmanned him quite. He sobbed aloud:

“Ah, mademoiselle! God knows that I have done my best! Yet here is the Consul threatening me, and moving all the Government to watch me closely; as if I had entrapped you for some evil purpose!⁠—as if I were the worst of criminals, intent to harm you!⁠ ⁠… I cannot vindicate myself. It would be too degrading. And if he thinks me such a first-class canaille he would not believe me. Therefore I come to beg you, mademoiselle, yourself to deign to write a little word to this good monsieur, assuring him that we are not the monsters he supposes.”

The girl’s face flamed. “I write at once!” she said, and rose to do so.