‘Coward,’ she threw at him, brandishing the sword. Mesdames Thierry and Poussaint appeared delighted to meet Gerald, and he was obliged to do the pretty to their daughters too. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. A thing which had mystified her since childhood, a smouldering wonder why it should be, and until now she had never felt the urge to investigate. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes. . But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. His hands came up, his face broke apart. Jonathan's vexation at the disappointment was expressed in the bitterest imprecations, and he returned as speedily as he could to the trench. Pull over there. M. No sterner head was ever beheld beneath the cowl of a monk, or the bonnet of an inquisitor. Much too formal for a cosy chat between old friends.
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