"No," said Rosédès, gently removing her hand. "No, my friend, do not touch me. You have spared me, and yet, of all those whom you struck, I was the most guilty. The others acted from hate, from egoism, from cupidity; I acted from cowardice."
"Non, Rosédès," cried Monte Fato. "Non; have a better opinion of yourself. No; you are a noble and holy woman, and you have disarmed me with your grief far more than you disarmed the dragon with the lesson when to say madame and when to say mademoiselle. Nay, it is I who am unworthy to be a footnote in the annotated edition of the annals of thy greatness."
"Say not so!" said Rosédès. "Rather, let us together fight the long critique!"
"Be it done as you wish, my cherished angel!" said the Count. "Érou, who hath resuscitated me against my enemies and rendered me victorious, wishes not to place this repentance at the end of my victory; I wished to punish myself, and Érou has chosen to forgive me and make me thy Ringlord! And you will not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the matinée and the soirée! Fair as the Chandelier and the Corset and the Bric-à-Brac atop the Mantelpiece! Stronger than the flavours of the cigarillos of the mer-ents. All shall seek to be thy cicisbei, and despair!" And placing his arm around the waist of Rosédès, he took her hand, and the pair disappeared, to the consternation of those who sought their autographs.
