"What of that?"

"Yes, Monsieur, what of that? Did you think it was written out of love

for you?"

He was staggered for the moment by her coolness. "Out of what, then?" he

cried hoarsely. "Out of what, then, if not out of love?"

"Why, out of pity, my little gentleman!" she answered sharply. "And

trouble thrown away, it seems. Love!" And she laughed so merrily and

spontaneously it cut him to the heart. "No; but you said a dainty thing

or two, and smiled a smile; and like a fool, and like a woman, I was

sorry for the innocent calf that bleated so prettily on its way to the

butcher's! And I would lock you up, and save your life, I thought, until

the blood-letting was over. Now you have it, M. de Tignonville, and I

hope you like it."

Like it, when every word she uttered stripped him of the selfish

illusions in which he had wrapped himself against the blasts of

ill-fortune? Like it, when the prospect of her charms had bribed him

from the path of fortitude, when for her sake he had been false to his

mistress, to his friends, to his faith, to his cause? Like it, when he

knew as he listened that all was lost, and nothing gained, not even this

poor, unworthy, shameful compensation? Like it? No wonder that words

failed him, and he glared at her in rage, in misery, in shame.

"Oh, if you don't like it," she continued, tossing her head after a

momentary pause, "then you should not have come! It is of no profit to

glower at me, Monsieur. You do not frighten me."

"I would--I would to God I had not come!" he groaned.

"And, I dare say, that you had never seen me--since you cannot win me!"

"That too," he exclaimed.

She was of an extraordinary levity, and at that, after staring at him a

moment, she broke into shrill laughter.

"A little more, and I'll send you to my cousin Hannibal!" she said. "You

do not know how anxious he is to see you. Have you a mind," with a

waggish look, "to play bride's man, M. de Tignonville? Or will you give

away the bride? It is not too late, though soon it will be!"

He winced, and from red grew pale. "What do you mean?" he stammered;

and, averting his eyes in shame, seeing now all the littleness, all the

baseness of his position, "Has he--married her?" he continued.

"Ho, ho!" she cried in triumph. "I've hit you now, have I, Monsieur?

I've hit you!" And mocking him, "Has he--married her?" she lisped. "No;

but he will marry her, have no fear of that! He will marry her. He

waits but to get a priest. Would you like to see what he says?" she

continued, playing with him as a cat plays with a mouse. "I had a note

from him yesterday. Would you like to see how welcome you'll be at the

wedding?" And she flaunted a piece of paper before his eyes.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024