Count Hannibal

And yet he would not. He would not, out of pride. Instead he bit on his

harsh beard, and lay looking upward to the rafters, waiting what would

come. He who had held her at his will now lay at hers, and waited. He

who had spared her life at a price now took his own a gift at her hands,

and bore it.

"Afterwards, Madame de Tavannes--"

His mind went back by some chance to those words--the words he had

neither meant nor fulfilled. It passed from them to the marriage and the

blow; to the scene in the meadow beside the river; to the last ride

between La Fleche and Angers--the ride during which he had played with

her fears and hugged himself on the figure he would make on the morrow.

The figure? Alas! of all his plans for dazzling her had come--this!

Angers had defeated him, a priest had worsted him. In place of releasing

Tignonville after the fashion of Bayard and the Paladins, and in the

teeth of snarling thousands, he had come near to releasing him after

another fashion and at his own expense. Instead of dazzling her by his

mastery and winning her by his magnanimity, he lay here, owing her his

life, and so weak, so broken, that the tears of childhood welled up in

his eyes.

Out of the darkness a hand, cool and firm, slid into his, clasped it

tightly, drew it to warm lips, carried it to a woman's bosom.

"My lord," she murmured, "I was the captive of your sword, and you spared

me. Him I loved you took and spared him too--not once or twice. Angers,

also, and my people you would have saved for my sake. And you thought I

could do this! Oh! shame, shame!" But her hand held his always.

"You loved him," he muttered.

"Yes, I loved him," she answered slowly and thoughtfully. "I loved him."

And she fell silent a minute. Then, "And I feared you," she added, her

voice low. "Oh, how I feared you--and hated you!"

"And now?"

"I do not fear him," she answered, smiling in the darkness. "Nor hate

him. And for you, my lord, I am your wife and must do your bidding,

whether I will or no. I have no choice."

He was silent.

"Is that not so?" she asked.

He tried weakly to withdraw his hand.

But she clung to it. "I must bear your blows or your kisses. I must be

as you will and do as you will, and go happy or sad, lonely or with you,

as you will! As you will, my lord! For I am your chattel, your

property, your own. Have you not told me so?"