THE ETRUSCAN VASE 167
soon quickly growing more earnest, " Auguste," she said, " how could you be so foolish as to har- bour such suspicions, and so hypocritical as to hide them from me? "
Her eyes filled with tears.
" I implore you to forgive me."
"Of course I forgive you, beloved . but let me first swear. . . . "
" Oh! I believe you, I beheve you; do not say any more about it."
" But in Heaven's name what put such an improbable notion in your head? "
" Nothing, nothing in the world except my accursed temper . . . and . . . would you believe it? that Etruscan vase which I knew Massigny had given you."
The Countess clasped her hands together in amazement, and then she burst into shouts of laughter.
" My Etruscan vase I my Etruscan vase! "
Saint-Clair was obliged to join in the laugh- ter himself, although great tears roUed down his cheeks. He seized Mathilde in his arms. " I will not let you go," he said, " until you pardon me."
" Yes, I forgive you, though you are so foolish," she replied, kissing him tenderly. " You make me very happy to-day; it is the first
