“If I forgive you,” answered Jacqueline in a cold voice, “it is because I have failed to understand you.”
“But tell me, before we go, why have you promised only to deny? I have been patient. I have endured all. But now, to-night, under this soft moonlight, under these burning stars, with Venice, the Queen of Loves, to listen, I tell you that I love you. Pledge your love to me–here–to-night.”
“I insist that you let me go.”
“In one moment. Tell me why you refuse to keep your word? Is it because that Mr. Hume made me ridiculous before you? If he had not interfered, you would have loved me. I would have made you love me.”
“Really, Duke da Sestos, to be quite exact, you should say if you had not interfered.”
“But when once you know what I know, when I have told you that he is a thief––”
“Thief!” cried my dear Jacqueline with scorn.
“Is he not a thief who breaks into your rooms, who binds you hand and foot, who steals from you––”
“You dare say that he has done that?” cried Jacqueline, lingering in spite of herself.
“I dare say to his face that he has done just that,” replied the duke hotly. “He has done more than that. He has stolen your heart from me, and for that I shall never forgive him. Never. But I shall yet win you. You are mine. Give me my reward. I implore you. I command you. You are in my power. One kiss, and you shall go. I swear it. No, no, you shall not escape me.”