Her arms dropped upon the table, and the despair on her face deceived
him. "Monsieur, this is unmanly, cruel!"
"All is fair in love and war. My love compels me to use force. What
if this document had fallen into D'Hérouville's hands? He would have
gone about it less gently."
Madame bent her head upon her arms, and the candles threw a golden
sparkle into her hair. The vicomte's heart beat fast, and his hand
stole forth and hovered above that beautiful head but dared not touch
it. Presently madame looked up. There were tears in her eyes, but the
vicomte did not know that they were tears of rage.
"Think, Madame," he said eagerly; "is a dungeon more agreeable to you
than I am, and would not a dungeon be worse than death?"
Madame roughly brushed her eyes. "You speak of love; I doubt your
sincerity."
"I love you so well that I would kill D'Hérouville and De Saumaise and
Du Cévennes, all of them, rather than that one of them should possess
the right to call you his."
"But can you not see how impossible life with you would be after this
night? I should hold you in perpetual fear."
"I will find a way to overcome that fear."
"But each time I look at you would recall this humiliating moment. I
am a proud woman, Monsieur, and I suffer now from humiliation as I
never suffered before;" all of which was true. "I am a Montbazon; it
is very close to royal blood. If I were forced to marry you, you would
certainly live to regret it."
"As I said, I am willing to risk it." Then his voice softened. "Ah,
but I love you! 'Gabrielle, Gabrielle'! That name is the ebb and flow
of my heart's blood. Promise, Madame, promise; for I shall do as I
say. Will you enjoy the dungeon? I think not. Do not doubt that
there is an element of greatness in this heart of mine. With you as my
wife I shall become great; D'Halluys will be a name to live among those
of the great captains."
Madame locked her hands, her fingers twisting and untwisting . . . To
gain possession of that paper!
"How often I watched you in Paris," he went on, "wondering at first who
you were, and then, knowing, why you were not at court with your
brilliant mother. I have seen you so many times in the gardens, just
as twilight dissolved the brightness of day. I have often followed
you, but always at a respectful distance. And one night the happiness
was mine to meet you at the hôtel of Monsieur le Comte. Oh! I know
perfectly well the rumors you have heard regarding certain exploits.
But remember, I have grown up in camps, and soldiers are neither
careful nor provident. Poverty dogged my footsteps; and we must live
how we can. No good woman has ever crossed my path to lighten its
shadows, to smooth its roughness. Environment is the mold that forms
the man. I am what circumstance has made me. You, Madame, can change
all this."