The Grey Cloak - Page 158/256

Madame sat down. There was an interval of silence, during which the

candles seemed to move strangely from side to side, and the dark face

beyond was blurred and indistinct; all save the eyes, which, like the

lidless orbs of a snake, held and fascinated her. Vaguely she

comprehended the peril of a confused mind, and strove to draw upon that

secret inward strength which discovers itself in crises.

"How did you obtain that paper, Monsieur?"

The calm of her voice, though he knew it to be forced, surprised him.

"How did I obtain it? By strategy."

"Ah! not by the sword, then?" leaning upon the table, her fingers alone

betraying her agitation. "Not by the sword, and the mask, and the grey

cloak?"

As if the question afforded him infinite amusement, the vicomte laughed.

"Would I be here?" he said. "Would I have ventured into this desert?

Rather would I not have spoken yonder in France? I shall tell you how

I obtained it . . . after we are married."

Madame raised a hand and nervously tapped a knuckle against her teeth.

"Which is it to be, Madame?" caressing the paper.

"Monsieur, you are not without foresight and reason. Have you

contemplated what I should become in time, forced into a marriage with

a man whom I should not love, with whom I should always associate the

sword, and the mask, and the grey cloak?"

"I have speculated upon that side of it," easily, "and am willing to

take the risk. In time you would forget all about the sword and the

cloak, since they can in no wise be associated with me. Eventually you

would grow to love me."

"Either you understand nothing about women, or you are guilty of gross

fatuity."

"I understand woman tolerably well, and I have rubbed against too many

edges to be fatuous."

"Indeed, I believe you have much to learn."

"If I showed this paper to the governor of Quebec . . ."

"Which you will not do, there being no magic liquid this side of

France."

"It would be simple to cut out the name."

"You would still have to explain to Monsieur de Lauson how you came

into possession of it."

"Madame, the more I listen to you, the more determined I am that you

shall become my wife. I admire the versatility of your mind, the

coolness of your logic. Not one woman in a thousand could talk to so

much effect, when imprisonment or death . . ."

"Or marriage!"

". . . faced her as surely as it faces you."

"Permit me to see the paper, Monsieur."

Some men would have surrendered to the seductiveness of her voice; not

so the vicomte.

"Scarcely, Madame," smiling.

"How am I to know that it is genuine? Allow me to glance at it?"