He took a step toward her, hesitated, stopped.
"In a moment, madame," said he. "Before I go, I have an apology to make
and a pardon to crave."
"Of whom?" demanded the duchess.
For answer, the Prince turned to Susie, so near that he almost touched
her--so near that she could see the trembling of his hands, the
throbbing of his heart.
"Miss Rushford," he said, in a voice low, carefully repressed, but
vibrant with emotion, "I know that I have played the scoundrel; I know
that I have no right whatever to address you; I know that I have done
everything I could to forfeit your respect. Believe me, the cup is
bitter--the more so, since I myself prepared it!"
His voice was trembling so that for the moment he could not go on.
"No, no!" cried the duchess, from the door, "you wrong yourself, Fritz.
It was I prepared it--it is I who am to blame!"
But he motioned her to silence.
"It was I prepared it," he repeated, "by my unjust suspicions and
ungentlemanly action. I shall drain it with what manhood I have. And I
hope, mademoiselle, that you will, in time, find it in your heart to
pardon me and to think of me with kindness. I can only repeat to you
what I have already told your father--that I love you truly and
deeply--with my whole heart--as I shall always love you--always--Oh, if
I had not been a fool!"
The duchess, looking on from the door, felt a sudden wave of tenderness
sweep over her.
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