“Couldn’t you complain?”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know—to the Government.”
He made no reply, but stood for awhile still watching. Then, having made sure that it was not one of his pursuers, his countenance cleared and he came over to her.
“How I love you! You are lovelier than ever. You are, truly, and I adore you. But what if they had put different men on to me this time! It’s Dupuy who put them on my track. A tall fellow and a short one. The tall one wore black glasses and the short one had a nose like a parrot’s beak and little bright eyes like a bird’s that were always glancing sideways. I knew them well. They weren’t much to be feared. They were always after me. When I went to the Club my friends would tell me as they came in, ‘Lacrisse, I’ve just seen your two fellows at the door.’ I used to send them out beer and cigars. Sometimes I would ask myself if Dupuy did not set them on me to protect me. He was brusque and queer and irritable, but a patriot all the same. He wasn’t a bit like the men in power to-day. With them you’ve got to be on your guard. What if they’ve changed my detectives, the brutes!”
He went to the window again.
“No, it’s only a coachman smoking his pipe. I didn’t notice his yellow-striped waistcoat. Fear distorts objects, that’s certain! I must confess I was afraid—on your account, as you may imagine. You must not be compromised through me, you who are so charming, so delicious!”
He sat beside her and took her in his arms, covering her with vehement caresses. Presently she found that her dress was in such disorder that modesty alone, in the absence of any other motive, would have forced her to remove it.
“Elisabeth, tell me you love me.”
“If I did not love you, it seems to me——”