“I was there,” I admitted, “looking for Lady Monica Vale. We danced together, and I brought her here—”
“Who is this man, Duke?” Though she spoke to him, Lady Vale-Avon's eyes, cold as points of steel, pierced mine.
“A person who, whatever his intentions may be, ought not to be in Biarritz while King Alfonso's here.”
“I remember the name now. And he has come to your house, uninvited; he proposes to marry my daughter—a man whom I've never seen! You have your answer, Marqués de Casa Triana, if you need an answer. It is, no. Pray accept it quietly, and cease to persecute us, otherwise I must ask the Duke to act for me, as I have no husband or son. Is that enough?”
“It is not enough,” I echoed. “I love your daughter, and I trust she cares for me. I will not give her up.”
“Monica, I told you to go, and you disobey me,” exclaimed Lady Vale-Avon. “Now, I tell you to send this man away.”
“Mother—I love him,” faltered the girl. “Wait—when you've heard—when you know what he is—”
“You talk like a child, Monica,” her mother said. “You are a child. It's your one excuse; but this man, who must have [pg 26]hypnotized you, has reached years of discretion. If he will not leave the room, we must.”
“I'll go, Lady Vale-Avon,” I said, “but first let me say once more, frankly, I will never give up your daughter.” Then I looked straight at Monica. “Trust me,” I said, “as I trust you; and have courage.”
With that I bowed, and walked out at the window by which I hoped the Duke thought I had come in.