“M. Boreski, will you see that the carriage is sent back to the stable, and is kept in readiness for M. Denver?”
Boreski understood her, and going out shut the door carefully behind him.
I made no attempt to speak, but sat staring moodily down on the ground and trying to think; and Helga on her side was resolutely silent. Several minutes passed in this dead silence until it got on my nerves. She forced me to break it.
“Well, what is it you want?” I asked, most ungraciously.
The way she met me was characteristic. She laughed softly and sweetly, and looked across at me.
“My mood has passed, monsieur,” she said, quoting my words. “Shall we wait for yours to pass also? Permit me?” and she rose and offered me a cigarette from a dainty gold case.
“I would rather smoke something stronger, with your leave.” I took out a cigar, and she lighted a cigarette; and another long silence fell between us. She broke it this time.
“You have made me your enemy, and I have beaten you so far; but you will not find me ungenerous.”
“Generous or ungenerous, I don’t see any way out of the tangle. I won’t listen to any more of your story; and you can’t use those papers. I don’t know what it is you want, and if I did, it would be no use, for I could not grant it. And there’s the deadlock.”
“Is it, after all, necessary that we should be enemies?”