But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. Her lips parted, but no words came. Fatigued by his previous exertions, and incumbered by his fetters, he was by no means—though ordinarily remarkably swift of foot—a match for his foes, who were fast gaining upon him. The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open. I have had no one but for you. He took Diane out.
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