gratify a
more ardent curiosity.

"Monsieur, if it is not indiscreet, may I ask what you mean to do with
me?" The insolence and irony of the tone stung through the words. The
Duchess quite believed that she read extravagant love in Montriveau's
speech. He had carried her off; was not that in itself an acknowledgment
of her power?

"Nothing whatever, madame," he returned, gracefully puffing the last
whiff of cigar smoke. "You will remain here for a short time. First
of all, I should like to explain to you what you are, and what I am. I
cannot put my thoughts into words whilst you are twisting on the sofa
in your boudoir; and besides, in your own house you take offence at the
slightest hint, you ring the bell, make an outcry, and turn your lover
out at the door as if he were the basest of wretches. Here my mind is
unfettered. Here nobody can turn me out. Here you shall be my victim for
a few seconds, and you are going to be so exceedingly kind as to listen
to me. You need fear nothing. I did not carry you off to insult you, nor
yet to take by force what you refused to grant of your own will to my
unworthiness. I could not stoop so low. You possibly think of outrage;
for myself, I have no such thoughts."

He flung his cigar coolly into the fire.

"The smoke is unpleasant to you, no doubt, madame?" he said, and rising
at once, he took a chafing-dish from the hearth, burnt perfumes, and
purified the air. The Duchess's astonishment was only equaled by her
humiliation. She was in this man's power; and he would not abuse his
power. The eyes in which love had once blazed like flame were now quiet
and steady as stars. She trembled. Her dread of Armand was increased by
a nightmare sensation of restlessness and utter inability to move; she
felt as if she were turned to stone. She lay passive in the grip of
fear. She thought she saw the light behind the curtains grow to a blaze,
as if blown up by a pair of bellows; in another moment the gleams of
flame grew brighter, and she fancied that three masked figures suddenly
flashed out; but the terrible vision disappeared so swiftly that she
took it for an optical delusion.

"Madame," Armand continued with cold contempt, "one minute, just one
minute is enough for me, and you shall feel it afterwards at every
moment throughout your lifetime, the one eternity over which I have
power. I am not God. Listen carefully to me," he continued, pausing to
add solemnity to his words. "Love will