The Grey Cloak - Page 84/256

"Oh, that is nothing. Danger is spice to a man's palate. But will you

not remove your mask that I may look upon your face while you speak?"

There was a break in his voice. This unexpected meeting seemed to have

taken the solids from under his feet.

"You have been drinking!" with agitation.

"I have been striving to forget. But wine makes us reckless, not

forgetful." He rumpled his hair. "But will you not remove the mask?"

"Victor, you ought never to look upon my face again."

"Do you suppose that I could forget your face, a single contour or line

of it?"

"I have been so thoughtless! Forgive me! It was my hope that many

months should pass ere we met again. But fate has willed it otherwise.

I have but few words to say to you. I beg you to listen earnestly to

them. It is true that in your company I have passed many a pleasant

hour. Your wit, your gossip, your excellent verses, and your unending

gaiety dispelled many a cloud of which you knew nothing, nor shall

know. When I fled from Paris there was a moment when I believed you to

be guilty of that abominable crime. That grey cloak; I had seen you

wear it. Forgive me for doubting so brave a gentleman as yourself. I

have learned all. You never spoke of the Chevalier du Cévennes as

being your comrade in arms. That was excessive delicacy on your part.

Monsieur, our paths must part to widen indefinitely."

"How calmly you put the cold of death in my heart!" The passion in his

voice was a pain to her. Well she knew that he loved her deeply,

honestly, lastingly. "Gabrielle, you know that I love you. You are

free."

"Love?" with voice metallic. "Talk not to me of love. If I have

inspired you with an unhappy passion, forgive me, for it was done

without intent. I have played you an evil turn." She sank on one of

the benches and fumbled, with the strings of her mask.

"So: the dream vanishes; the fire becomes ashes. Is it really you,

Gabrielle? Has not the wine turned the world upside-down, brought you

here only in fancy? This night is truly some strange dream. I shall

wake to-morrow in Paris. I shall receive a note from you, bidding me

bring the latest book. The Chevalier will dine with his beautiful

unknown . . . Gabrielle, tell me that you love no one," anger and love

and despair alternately changing his voice, "yes, tell me that!"

"Victor, I love no man. And God keep me from that folly. You are

making me very unhappy!" She bent her head upon her arm.

"Oh, my vanished dream, do not weep on my account! You are not to

blame. I love you well. That is God's blame, not yours, since He

molded you, gave you a beautiful face, a beautiful mind, a beautiful

heart. Well, I will be silent. I will go about my affairs, laughing.

I shall write rollicking verses, fight a few duels, and sign a few

papers under which the ax lies hidden! . . . Do you know how well I

love you?" sinking beside her and taking her hand before she could

place it beyond his reach. He put a kiss on it. "Listen. If it means

anything toward your happiness and content of mind, I will promise to

be silent forever." Suddenly he dropped the hand and rose. "Your

presence is overpowering: I can not answer for myself. You were right.

We ought not to have met again."