ly. "When my desire attacks an obstacle it
must give way or result in my death. I have had many desires and many
obstacles, and I am still living."

"But you may be killed abroad. That would disappoint me terribly."

"Monsieur de Saumaise, I have seen for some months that you have been
nourishing a secret antipathy to me. Be frank enough to explain why
our admiration is not mutual." The vicomte seated himself on a bench,
and threw his scabbard across his knees.

"Since you have put the question frankly I will answer frankly. For
some time I have distrusted you. What was to be your gain in joining
the conspiracy?"

"And yours?" quietly. "I think we both overlooked that part of the
contract. Proceed."

"Well, I distrust you at this moment, for I know not what your purpose
is to speak of affronts and refuse to let me give satisfaction. I
distrust and dislike you for the manner in which you approached the
Chevalier tonight. There was in your words a biting sarcasm and
contempt which, he in his trouble did not grasp. And let me tell you,
Monsieur, if you ever dare mention publicly the Chevalier's misfortune,
I shall not wait for you to draw your sword."

The vicomte swung about his scabbard and began lightly to tap the floor
with it. Here and there a cinder rose in dust. The vicomte's face was
grave and thoughtful. "You have rendered my simple words into a Greek
chorus. That is like you poets; you are super-sensitive; you
misconstrue commonplaces; you magnify the simple. I am truly sorry for
the Chevalier. Now there's a man. He is superb with the rapier, light
and quick as a cat; a daredevil, who had not his match in Paris. Free
with his money, a famous drinker, and never an enemy. Yes, I will
apologize for my bad taste in approaching him to-night. I should have
waited till morning."

"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