He stood on the top of the staircase, half uncertain whether to enter or not.
She went to him. By the light of the lamps he saw how marvelously pale she had grown; and how terrible was the fear that shone in her eyes.
He looked carelessly round the room. He did not see at first what was the glittering heap of white raiment; nor had he noticed the orange wreath. But he saw, lying on the stand amid the flowers, a large, sharp knife. It had been left there by some careless servant who had been cutting the thick branches that wreathed the windows. His eyes lingered on it for one half-minute; if he had known what was to happen, he would most surely have flung it far from him.
She looked up into his face with cold, determined eyes.
"Now," she said, "do your worst; say your worst. I defy you!"
"Women are the greatest simpletons in creation," he said; "they imagine it so easy to break faith with a man. You have to find out how difficult it is."
She made no reply.
"By right of what has passed between us," he continued, "I claim you for my wife. You told me you would consider the claim, and that you would give me your decision on a certain date."
No answer. All the defiance that pride could suggest was in her white face.
"You promised me, also, that you would not attempt in any way to evade that claim."