She did not look at Ratoneau. As to him, he did not speak, but laughed and bent nearer. She rose to her feet suddenly.
"You forget yourself—you are mad, Monsieur le Général," she said haughtily. "If that is the condition—no! Pray do not concern yourself about my cousin's affairs, you have nothing to do with them."
Ratoneau rose too, a little unsteadily.
"Listen one moment, mademoiselle," he said. "If I am mad, you are foolish, let me tell you. I said nothing about conditions, I stated facts. You will be my wife—therefore you are mine, you belong to me, and therefore there is nothing I will not do for love of you. My wife is the most beautiful woman in France, and she stands here."
"Never, never!" murmured Hélène. "It has come!" she said to herself.
Her mother had threatened her with this; and now, apparently, all had been settled without a word to her. Even her father, once on her side, must be against her now. He had been angry with her; not without reason, she knew. Yes, this horrible thing had been arranged by her father, her mother, Georges, while she was kept a prisoner upstairs. If they had been kinder to her in the last few days, it was only that they wished to bring their victim smiling to the sacrifice. No wonder Georges had insisted on her dancing with General Ratoneau. No wonder her mother had taken pains to dress her beautifully for this ball, which she hated and dreaded so much.
These thoughts, with a wild desire to escape, rushed through Hélène's mind as she stood breathless before this man who laid such a daring claim to her. He was smiling, though his lips were white. It is not pleasant to be treated as horrible scum of the earth by the woman you have arranged to marry; to see scorn, disgust, hatred in a girl's face, answering to your finest compliments.
"This young lady has a character—she has a temper—" he muttered between his teeth. "But you will be tamed, ma belle. Who would have thought with those pale cheeks of yours—well, the Emperor's command will bring you to reason. Pity I spoke, perhaps—but a man cannot keep cool always. That command—Ah, thousand thunders! what do I see?"
The last words were spoken aloud. As Hélène stood before him, silent, rooted with horror to the ground, he watching her with folded arms in a favourite imperial attitude, several sets of people strolled across the lower end of the room, for this was one of a suite of salons. Suddenly came the master of the house alone, walking slowly, his eyes fixed on a letter in his hand, his face deathly white in the glimmer of the many wax candles. Hélène did not see her father at first, for her back was turned to him, but at the General's words she turned quickly, and was just aware of him as he passed into the next room. Without another word or look she left her partner standing there, and fled away in pursuit of him. Ratoneau watched the white figure vanishing, laughed aloud, and swore heartily.
"This is dramatic," he said. "Fortunate that I have a friend at Court in Madame la Comtesse! Suppose I go and join her."