"Your secret shall be kept on one condition only," he said, rising slowly, and standing beside her.
"What is that, pray?"
"That no harm shall befall Hugh," he replied earnestly. "You understand my meaning, Valérie?"
"It isn't very likely that I should allow anything of that sort to occur. You seem to forget I love him."
The artist was convinced that her affection for his friend was unfeigned. She was but a woman after all, he argued, and probably her life had changed since they last met. Her answer decided him.
"Well, which will you do?" she again asked, with an anxious look.
"I will tell Hugh nothing of the past," he said briefly.
"Ah! I thought you would come to your senses at last," she exclaimed, with a short, hysterical laugh. "Then it is a compact between us. You take an oath of silence."
"I swear I will divulge nothing," he stammered.
Then Valérie breathed again, and it was impossible for her to hide the satisfaction with which she regarded his words.
"Divulge nothing," she repeated, quite cheerfully.
"Undoubtedly it will be the best course, especially as we both have hideous secrets which, if exposed, would bring inevitable ruin upon us both. Was it not Marmontel who said, ' La fortune, soit bonne ou mauvaise, soit passagère ou constante, ne peut rien sur l'âme du sage? '"
They chatted for a few moments, then moved away together in the direction of the Floral Hall—not, however, before she exclaimed—
"If you break your oath you will bitterly repent."
