"Madame," he said gently, "do you love me?"No answer.
"Madame, for God's sake, do not weep! Do you love me? If you love me--if you love me--"She sprang to her feet.Once again she experienced that shiver;again her conscience stirred.
"I do not know," she said."But this I may say: your honor, which you hold above the price of a woman's love, will be the cause of bloodshed.Mothers and wives and sisters will execrate your name, brave men will be sacrificed needlessly.What are the Osians to you? They are strangers.You will do for them, and uselessly, what you refuse to do for the woman you profess to love.I abhor bloodshed.Your honor is the offspring of pride and egotism.Can you not see the inevitable? War will be declared.You can not help Leopold; but you can save him the degradation of being expelled from his throne by force of arms.
The army of the duchess is true to its humblest sword.Can you say that for the army of the king? Would you witness the devastation of a beautiful city, by flame and sword?
"Monsieur, Austria is with us, and she will abide with us whichever way we move.Austria, Monsieur, which is Leopold's sponsor.And this Leopold, is he a man to sit upon a throne? Is he a king in any sense of the word? Would a king submit to such ignominy as he submits to without striking a blow? Would he permit his ministers to override him? Would he permit his army to murmur, his agents to plunder, his people to laugh at him, if he possessed one kingly attribute? No, no! If you were king, would you allow these things? No! You would silence all murmurs, you would disgorge your agents, you would throttle those who dared to laugh.
"Put yourself in the duchess's place.All these beautiful lands are hers by right of succession; is she wrong to desire them?
What does she wish to accomplish? She wishes to join the kingdom and the duchy, and to make a great kingdom, as it formerly was.
Do you know why Leopold was seated upon the throne?
"Some day the confederation will decide to divide all these lands into tidbits, and there will be no one to oppose them.
Madame the duchess wishes to be strong enough to prevent it.And you, Monsieur, are the grain of sand which stops all this, you and your pride.Not even a woman's love-- There, I have said it!--not even a woman's love-- will move your sense of justice.Go!
leave me.Since my love is nothing, since the sacrifice I make is useless, go; you are free!" The tears which came into her eyes this time were genuine; tears of chagrin, vexation, and of a third sensation which still remained a mystery to her.
To him, as she spoke, with her wonderful eyes flashing, a rich color suffusing her cheeks and throat and temples, the dim candle light breaking against the ruddy hair; honor or pride, whichever it was, was well worth the losing.He was a man; it is only the pope who is said to be infallible.His honor could not save the king.All she had said was true.If he held to his word there would be war and bloodshed.
On the other hand, if he surrendered, less harm would befall the king, and the loss of his honor --was it honor?--would be well recompensed for the remainder of his days by the love of this woman.His long years of loneliness came back; he wavered.He glanced first at her, then at the door; one represented all that was desirable in the world, the other more loneliness, coupled with unutterable regret.Still he wavered, and finally he fell.
"Madame, will you be my wife?"
"Yes." And it seemed to her that the word, came to her lips by no volition of hers.As she had grown red but a moment gone, she now grew correspondingly pale, and her limbs shook.She had irrevocably committed herself."No, no!" as she saw him start forward with outstretched arms,."not my lips till I am your wife! Not my lips; only my hands!"He covered them with kisses.
"Hush!" as she stepped back.
It was time.Maurice and the countess entered the room.Maurice glanced from Madame to Fitzgerald and back to Madame; he frowned.
The Englishman, who had never before had cause to dissemble, caught up his pipe and fumbled it.This act merely discovered his embarrassment to the keen eyes of his friend.He had forgotten all about Maurice.What would he say? Maurice was something like a conscience to him, and his heart grew troubled.
"Madame," Maurice whispered to the countess, "I have lost all faith in you; you have kept me too long under the stars.""Confidences?" said Madame, with a swift inquiring glance at the countess.
