You would laugh at me."

"I? No; love is sacred." She had boasted to Maurice that she was without
conscience; she had only smothered it. "Come; is she beautiful?"

"Yes." These questions disturbed him.

"Certainly she must be worthy or you would not love her. She is rich?"

"That does not matter; I am." He was wishing that Maurice would hurry
back; the desire to fly was returning.

"And she rejected you and sent you to the army?"

"She has not rejected me, though I dare say she would, had I the
presumption to ask her."

"A faint heart, they say--"

"My heart is not faint; it is my tongue." He rose and wandered about the
room. Her breath was like orris, and went to his head like wine.

"Monsieur," she said, "is it possible that you have succumbed to the
charms of Madame the countess?"

He laughed. "One may admire exquisite bric-a-brac without loving it."

"Bric-a-brac! Poor Elsa!" and Madame laughed. "If it were the countess I
could aid you."

"Love is not merchandise, to traffic with."

Madame's cheeks grew warm. Sometimes the trick of fence is beaten down
by a tyro's stroke.

"Eh, bien, since it is not the countess--"

He came toward her so swiftly that instinctively she rose and moved
to the opposite side of her chair. Something in his face caused her to
shiver. She had no time to analyze its meaning, but she knew that the
shiver was not unmixed with fear.

"Madame, in God's name, do not play with me!" he cried.

"Monsieur, you forget yourself," for the moment forgetting her part.

"Yes, there is no self in my thoughts since they are all of you! You
know that I love you. Who could resist you? Thirteen years? They are
well wasted, in the end to love a woman like you."

Before she could withdraw her hands from the top of the chair he had
seized them.

"Monsieur, release me." She struggled futilely.

"I love you." He began to draw her from behind the chair.

"Monsieur, Monsieur!" she, cried, genuinely alarmed; "do not forget that
you are a gentleman."

"I am not a gentleman now; I am a man who loves."

Madame was now aware that what she had aroused could not be subdued by
angry words.

"Monsieur, you say that you love me; do not degrade me by forcing me
into your arms. I am a woman, and weak, and you are hurting me."

He let go her hands, and they stood there, breathing deeply and quickly.
But for her it was a respite. She had been too precipitate. She brought
together the subtle forces o