"Your reasoning is subtle," laughed Peter. "But the worst of
it is, if I were ten times a Catholic, she wouldn't have me.
So what's the use?"
"You never can tell whether a woman will have you or not, until
you offer yourself. And even if she refuses you, is that a
ground for despair? My own husband asked me three times, and
three times I said no. And then he took to writing verses--and
I saw there was but one way to stop him. So we were married.
Ask her; ask her again--and again. You can always resort in
the end to versification. And now," the lady concluded,
rising, "I have spoken, and I leave you to your fate. I'm
obliged to return to the hotel, to hold a bed of justice. It
appears that my innocent darlings, beyond there, innocent as
they look, have managed among them to break the electric light
in my sitting-room. They're to be arraigned before me at three
for an instruction criminelle. Put what I 've said in your
pipe, and smoke it--'tis a mother's last request. If I 've not
succeeded in determining you, don't pretend, at least, that I
haven't encouraged you a bit. Put what I 've said in your
pipe, and see whether, by vigorous drawing, you can't fan the
smouldering fires of encouragement into a small blaze of
determination."
Peter resumed his stroll backwards and forwards by the
lakeside. Encouragement was all very well; but . . . "Shall I
--shall I not? Shall I--shall I not? Shall I--shall I not?"
The eternal question went tick-tack, tick-tack, to the rhythm of
his march. He glared at vacancy, and tried hard to make up his
mind.
"I'm afraid I must be somewhat lacking in decision of
character," he said, with pathetic wonder.
Then suddenly he stamped his foot.
"Come! An end to this tergiversation. Do it. Do it," cried
his manlier soul.
"I will," he resolved all at once, drawing a deep breath, and
clenching his fists.
He left the Casino, and set forth to walk to Ventirose. He
could not wait for the omnibus, which would not leave till
four. He must strike while his will was hot.
He walked rapidly; in less than an hour he had reached the tall
gilded grille of the park. He stopped for an instant, and
looked up the straight avenue of chestnuts, to the western
front of the castle, softly alight in the afternoon sun. He
put his hand upon the pendent bell-pull of twisted iron, to
summon the porter. In another second he would have rung, he
would have been admitted . . . . And just then one of the
little demons that inhabit the circumambient air, called his
attention to an aspect of the situation which he had not
thought of.