He would not
listen to you, _mon cher_, if you went. But--to me, he will listen, even
though he believes me to be a thief; for he is very just. I know that I
can make him understand. And for that I shall go to him to-morrow. As you
say, we cannot let _la petite_ fret."
He spoke quite quietly, but his eyes were shining with a fire that had
not lit them for many a day.
"My dear chap, you can't go. You're not fit for it." Max spoke with quick
decision. "I won't let you go, so there's an end of it."
But Bertrand laughed. "So? But I am more fit than you think, _mon ami_.
Also it is my affair, this, and none but I can accomplish it. See, I
start in the morning, and by this hour to-morrow I shall be with him."
"Folly! Madness!" Max said.
But indomitable resolution still shone in the Frenchman's eyes. "Listen
to me, Max," he said. "If I spend my last breath thus, why not? I have
not the least desire to cling to life. And is that madness? I love _la
petite_ more than all. And is that folly? Why should I not give the
strength that is still in me to accomplish the desire of my heart? Is
mortal life so precious to those who have nothing for which to live?"
"Rot!" Max said fiercely.
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