Germain,
and he wants me to take possession . . . you know the rest! He is a
villain? Yes--he is like Miraudin, who has a luxurious flat in Paris
and sends each lady of his harem there in turn. How angry you look!
But, my dear, I am not going to the house in the Foret, and I shall
not meet him here. He will come--looking charming as usual, and he
will wait for me; but I shall not arrive. All I want you to do for
me is to receive him very kindly, talk to him very sweetly, and tell
him quite suddenly that I have left Paris."
"What good will that do?" enquired Angela, "Could you not write it
to him?"
"Of course I could write it to him but--" Here Sylvie paused and
turned away her head. Angela, moved by quick instinct, went to her
and put her arm around her waist.
"Now there are tears in your eyes, Sylvie," she said, "You are
suffering for this man's heartlessness and cruelty. For it IS
heartless,--it is insulting, and selfish, and cruel to offer you
nothing but dishonour if he knows you love him."
Sylvie took out a tiny cobweb of a lace handkerchief and dried her
tears.
"No, I will not have him called heartless, or cruel," she said, "He
is merely one of his class. There are hundreds like him in Paris.
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