There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. It was hard to associate her with the stories which he and all Paris had heard of “Alcide. He refused his food,—and even when better provisions were offered him, rejected them. ‘Gerald, what have you been about? Dorothée tells me that you were flirting outrageously with Madame Valade on Monday night. If hopeless love for her made me a robber, it has also saved me many a crime. I almost wish we hadn't come. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead.
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