"
Pierre gave a great breath. A warm flood seemed suddenly to engulf
Philip. Did he hear right? Could he believe? He fell upon his
knees beside Pierre and brushed his dark hair back from his face.
"Yes, I love her," he said, softly. "But I did not know that she
loved me."
"It is not strange," said Pierre, looking straight into his eyes.
"But you will understand--now--M'sieur. I seem to have strength,
and I will tell you all--from the beginning. Perhaps I have done
wrong. You will know--soon. You remember Jeanne told you the story
of the baby--of the woman frozen in the snow. That was the
beginning of the long fight--for me. This--what I am about to tell
you--will be sacred to you, M'sieur?"
"As my life," said Philip.
Pierre was silent for a few moments. He seemed to be gathering his
thoughts, so that he could tell in few words the tragedy of years.
Two brilliant spots burned in his cheeks, and the hand which
Philip held was hot.
"Years ago--twenty, almost--there came a man to Fort o' God," he
began. "He was very young, and from the south. D'Arcambal was then
middle-aged, but his wife was young and beautiful. Jeanne says
that you saw her picture--against the wall. D'Arcambal worshiped
her.
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