For a moment his face betrayed emotion. "I cannot--I will not--die
before her happiness is assured. It is that for which I now live, for
which I am ready to give my life. Max--_mon ami_--you will not let me die
before--my work--is done!"
He spoke pantingly, as though speech had become an effort. The strain was
beginning to tell upon him. But his eyes pleaded for him with a dumb
intensity hard to meet.
Max took his wrist once more into his steady grasp. "If you will do as I
tell you," he said, "I will see that you don't. Is that a bargain?"
A faint smile shone in the dark eyes at the peremptoriness of his speech.
"But how you are despotic--you English!" protested the soft voice.
"Do you agree to that?" insisted Max.
"_Mais oui_. I submit myself--always--to you English. How can one--do
other?"
"Then don't talk any more," said Max, with authority. "There's no time
for drivel, so save your breath. You will want it when you get to
Valpre."
"Ah, Valpre!" whispered Bertrand very softly as one utters a beloved
name; and again more softly, "Valpre!"
CHAPTER V
THE STRANGER
A long wave broke with a splash and spread up the sand in a broad band of
silver foam.
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