To exhaust all awkward
contingencies, she said, "One question more, and I have done. Suppose
Camille should turn out--be not quite--what shall I say--inexcusable?"
At this unlucky gush, Josephine turned pale, then red, then pale again,
and cried eagerly, "Then all the world should not part us. Why torture
me with such a question? Ah! you have heard something." And in a moment
the lava of passion burst wildly through its thin sheet of ice. "I was
blind. This is why you would save me from this unnatural marriage.
You are breaking the good news to me by degrees. There is no need.
Quick--quick--let me have it. I have waited three years; I am sick of
waiting. Why don't you speak? Why don't you tell me? Then I will tell
YOU. He is alive--he is well--he is coming. It was not he those soldiers
saw; they were so far off. How could they tell? They saw a uniform but
not a face. Perhaps he has been a prisoner, and so could not write;
could not come: but he is coming now. Why do you groan? why do you turn
pale? ah! I see; I have once more deceived myself. I was mad.
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