She accepts me."
Matilde drew breath, and pressed her hand to her left side for one
moment--she, who was so strong.
"You almost killed me!" she said, so low that Bosio hardly caught the
words.
Slowly she straightened herself, and the colour came back to her face,
blending with the tinge of the paint. He did not move, and she came and
stood near him, leaning her elbows upon the mantelpiece and turning to
him.
"You have saved me," she said. "I thank you."
Bad natures can be simple, if they are great enough, and Matilde spoke
simply, as she looked at him. She had been almost terrible to look at a
few moments earlier, with the rouge visible on her ghastly cheeks. No
one could have detected it now, and she was still splendid to see, as
she stood beside him, just bending her face upon her clasped hands while
her deep eyes melted in his.
He knew the difference between her and Veronica, and he straightened
himself, till he looked rigid, and an unnatural smile just wreathed his
lips, half hidden in his silky beard. He told himself that he had fallen
the last fall, to the very depths; yet he knew that there was a depth
below them, and he tried to turn his face from her, seeking refuge in
the thought of what he had done, from the evil he still might do.
"I have been thinking over all I said to you yesterday afternoon," she
said gently. "I meant it, you know--I meant it all."
"I trust to Heaven you did!" answered Bosio.
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