"You were rude to Mademoiselle de Vaudemont." Victor suddenly refused

to conciliate.

"Rude? Well, yes; I admit that. My word of honor, I could not contain

myself at the sound of her voice."

"Or of madame's?" shrewdly.

"Or of madame's." The vicomte smoothed his mustache.

Their eyes met, and the flame in the vicomte's disquieted Victor,

courageous though he was.

"It seems to me," said the vicomte, "that you have been needlessly

beating about the bush. Why did you not say to me, 'Monsieur, you love

Madame de Brissac. I love her also. The world is too small for both

of us?'"

"I depended upon your keen sense," replied Victor.

"I am almost tempted to favor you. I could use a short rapier."

"Good!" said Victor. "There is plenty of room. I have not killed a

man since this year Thursday."

"And having killed me," replied the vicomte, rising, and there was a

smile on his lips, "you would be forced to seek out Monsieur le Comte

d'Hérouville, a man of devastated estates and violent temper, the

roughest swordsman since Crillon's time; D'Hérouville, whose greed is

as great and fierce as his love. Have you thought of him, my poet? Ah

well, something tells me that the time is not far distant when we shall

be rushing at each other's throats. For the present, a truce. You

love madame; so do I. She is free. We are all young. Win her, if you

can, and I will step aside. But until you win her . . . I wish you

good night. I am going for a tramp along the sea-walls. I beg of you

not to follow."

The echo of the slamming door had scarce died away when Victor, raging

and potent to do the vicomte harm, flung out after him. With his sword

drawn he looked savagely up and down the street, but the vicomte was

nowhere in sight. The cold air, however, was grateful to the poet's

feverish cheeks and aching eyes; so he strode on absently, with no

destination in mind. It was only when the Hôtel de Périgny loomed

before him, with its bleak walls and sinister cheval-de-frise, that his

sense of locality revived. He raised a hand which cast a silent

malediction on this evil house and its master, swung about and hurried

back to the tavern, recollecting that Gabrielle and Paul were together.

"And all those dreams of her, they vanish like the hours. That hope,

that joyous hope, of calling her mine shall buoy me up no more. She

does not love me! God save me from another such unhappy night. We

have all been stricken with madness." He struck at the snow-drifts

with his sword. The snow, dry and dusty, flew up into his face.

Meanwhile, when madame entered the private assembly-room her eyes,

blurred with tears, saw only the half dead fire. With her hand she

groped along the mantel, and finding a candle, lit it. She did not

care where she was, so long as she was alone; alone with her unhappy

thoughts. She sat with her back toward the Chevalier, who had fallen

into a slight doze. Presently the silence was destroyed by a

hiccoughing sob. She had forced the end of her kerchief against her

lips to stifle the sound, but ineffectually.




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