She was amused at his
attentions then; she had little to occupy her, and she felt herself
superior to any man's emotions: not such as this young Seigneur could win
her away from her passive but certain fealty. She had played with fire,
from the very spirit of adventure in her, but she had not been burnt.
"You say he is an impostor, dear monsieur," she said languidly: "do pray
exert yourself, and prove him one. What is your evidence?"
She leaned back in the very chair where she had sat looking at Valmond a
few weeks before, her fingers idly smoothing out the folds of her dress.
"Oh, the thing is impossible," he answered, blowing the smoke of a
cigarette; "we've had no real proof of his birth, and life--and so on."
"But there are relics--and so on!" she said suggestively, and she picked
up the miniature of the Emperor.
"Owning a skeleton doesn't make it your ancestor," he replied.
He laughed, for he was pleased at his own cleverness, and he also wished
to remain good-tempered.
"I am so glad to see you at last take the true attitude towards this,"
she responded brightly. "If it's a comedy, enjoy it. If it's a
tragedy"--she drew herself up with a little shudder, for she was thinking
of that figure dropping from Elise's window--"you cannot stop it.
Tragedy is inevitable; but comedy is within the gift and governance of
mortals."
For a moment again she was lost in the thought of Elise, of Valmond's
vulgarity and commonness; and he had dared to speak words of love almost
to her! She flushed to the hair, as she had done fifty times since she
had seen him that moonlit night.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74