I knew only that I
must stand there silent if I was to get away from her in safety. If I
touched her, if I looked at her, I should lose control, and take what
she would give in pity. I fought to save her as well as myself from my
madness.
At last she spoke, and her voice was tired and quiet. "You wish me to
go, monsieur?"
That brought me to my manhood. I went to her and looked down at her
brown head; the brave brown head that she had carried so high through
all the terror and unkindness that had come to her. I touched her hair
with my lips, and I grew as quiet as she.
"Mary," I said, "it is I who must go away at once before I make trouble
for both of us. You are trying to forgive me, but you cannot do it.
You may think you have done it, but the time would come when you would
look at me in horror, as you looked at Starling. I could stand death
better. I know that you cannot forgive me. I knew it at the moment
when I gave the signal to attack the camp. You can never forgive me."
She lifted her eyes to mine. "I have not forgiven you, monsieur.
There is nothing to forgive."
I let myself look at her, and all my calmness left me. I shut my teeth
and tried to hold myself in bounds.
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