"
Hamilton leaned forward and dried her tears. "Say that you forgive me,"
she said; for audacity was ever a part of genius.
"Yes," he said grimly, "I forgive you. You and Bonaparte are the two
magnificent products of the French Revolution. I am sorry you are not
more of a philosopher, but, so far as I alone am concerned, I regret
nothing."
"Oh, men!" she exclaimed, with scorn. "They are always philosophers when
they are no longer in love with a woman. But you will give me your last
conscious moment?"
"No," he said deliberately, "I shall not."
She sprang to her feet. "You will! Thank you for saying that, though! I
was about to grovel at your feet. Take me to my coach! What a fool I was
to come here!" She seized her pelisse, and wound it about her as she ran
down the hall. Hamilton followed, insisting that she give him time to
awaken a servant. But she would not heed. She flung herself into her
coach, and called to the driver to gallop his horses, unless he wished
to lose his place on the morrow. Hamilton stood on the porch, listening
to the wild flight down the rough hill through the forest But it was
unbroken, so long as he could hear anything, and he laughed suddenly and
entered the house.
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