But now again she shook her head; and, as her lips quivered, gently pushed his arms away, and took one hand of his in both her own.
"Jean, it is not too late," she was trying bravely to control her voice. "You must go back. The _bon Dieu_ has given you a great life to live, and a great work to do--the work you love."
"It was not the work that I loved--it was Jean Laparde," he said, with a bitter laugh. "But now, I tell you again, Jean Laparde is dead."
"There is your life and there is your work," she went on, as though she had not heard him. "And, Jean--Jean, I have seen them both, and--and so I know."
"You have seen them!" he repeated in a puzzled way. "What is that you say?"
"Yes," she said. "Jean, it was I who went to your studio that night. It was I that Monsieur Valmain saw enter there. I had a cloak and hat that Father Anton had given me that had belonged to Mademoiselle Bliss."
"Wait!" she said tensely. "It does not matter if you know now, since you have seen me here; and I am telling you because--because I must make you understand that I know what your life is there in the great world, and how the name of Jean Laparde is honoured, and how now, more than ever before, Jean, you belong to France--and that you must go back--and that this can never, never be, Jean--and that I can never let you do this thing."
He stared at her for a moment and could not speak. It was Marie-Louise who had been at the studio that night! There was bewilderment upon him; and there was something of finality in the gentle voice that swept the laughter from his heart, and brought a cold, dead thing there in its place. And then a sudden, eager uplift came.
"You were there that night!" he said swiftly. "What brought you there, Marie-Louise? What brought you there--to Paris--from Bernay-sur-Mer?"
"Ah, I know! I know!" he cried out joyously. "It was your love, Marie-Louise--your love that brought you there. And so you love me now, Marie-Louise--and how then can you talk of sending me away?"
"I have always loved you, Jean," she said simply. "It is because I love you that I must not let you do this thing."
"And it is because I love you that I _will_ do it!" he burst out passionately. "Marie-Louise, you were there that night! But is that all? You do not say it, but perhaps you are thinking of Mademoiselle Bliss. You have seen her? She knew you were there? That you were in Paris? You knew that we--"