Marius had slipped his arm around me the way Gabrielle used to do it, and I paid no attention to where we were going, quite surprised when I saw we'd come to a small inlet of the water where a longboat lay at anchor with only a single pair of oars.
When we stopped I said again, "I'm sorry I did it! I swear I am. I didn't believe. . ."
"Don't tell me you regret it," Marius said calmly. "You are not at all sorry that it occurred,
and that you were the cause of it, now that you are safe, and not crushed like an eggshell on the chapel floor."
"Oh, but that's not the point," I said. I started crying. I took out my handkerchief, grand accoutrement of an eighteenth century gentleman, and wiped the blood off my face. I could feel her holding me, feel her blood, feel his hands. The whole thing
