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‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. "He must be somewhere hereabouts," cried one of the horsemen, dismounting. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. She is more dear to me than anything else. Perhaps it was the recollection of those happy days. Certain reserves went down on both sides. But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell.
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