Instantly her arms were pinioned to her sides, and he had drawn her so close that she could feel his heart beat against her own.
“Have no fear,” he said. The voice was unfamiliar to her ears. “I shall not kiss you. Let me look into your eyes, Madame, your eyes, and read the lie which is written there. My fortune and my life are not enough. Keep your love, Madame; I have no wish to purchase it. What! if I surrender my honor it is agreed that you surrender yours? A love such as mine requires a wife. You would have me break my word to the dead and to the living, and you expect me to believe in your promises! Faugh!” He pushed her from him, and resumed his stand by the window.
The hate of a thousand ancestors surged into her heart, and she would have liked to kill him. Mistress! He had dared. He had dared to speak to her as no other man living or dead had dared. And he lived. All that was tigerish in her soul rose to the surface; only the thought of the glittering goal stayed the outburst. She had yet one weapon. A minute went by, still another; silence. A hand was laid tremblingly on his arm.
“Forgive me! I was wrong. Love me, love me, if you must. Keep your honor; love me without conditions. I—” She stumbled into the chair, covered her eyes and fell to weeping.
Fitzgerald, dumfounded and dismayed, looked down at the beautiful head. He could fight angry words, tempests of wrath—but tears, a woman's tears, the tears of the woman he loved!
“Madame,” he said gently, “do you love me?”
No answer.
“Madame, for God's sake, do not weep! Do you love me? If you love me—if you love me—”
She sprang to her feet. Once again she experienced that shiver; again her conscience stirred.
“I do not know,” she said. “But this I may say: your honor, which you hold above the price of a woman's love, will be the cause of bloodshed. Mothers and wives and sisters will execrate your name, brave men will be sacrificed needlessly. What are the Osians to you? They are strangers. You will do for them, and uselessly, what you refuse to do for the woman you profess to love. I abhor bloodshed. Your honor is the offspring of pride and egotism. Can you not see the inevitable? War will be declared. You can not help Leopold; but you can save him the degradation of being expelled from his throne by force of arms. The army of the duchess is true to its humblest sword. Can you say that for the army of the king? Would you witness the devastation of a beautiful city, by flame and sword?