“You are a very sick man,” Maurice replied crossly. “What's to become of all these vows—”
“You are wasting your breath! Do you remember what Rochefoucauld said of Madame de Longueville?—`To win her heart, to delight her beautiful eyes, I have taken up arms against the king; I would have done the same against the gods!' Is she not worth it all?” with a gesture of his arms which sent the live coals of his pipe comet-like across the intervening space. “Is she not worth it all?”
“Who?—Madame de Longueville? I thought she was dead these two hundred years!”
“Damn it, Maurice!”
“I will, if you say so. The situation is equal to a good deal of plain, honest damning.” Maurice banged his fist again. “John, sit down and listen to me. I'll not sit still and see you made a fool. Promises? This woman will keep none. When she has wrung you dry she will fling you aside. At this moment she is probably laughing behind your back. You were brought here for this purpose. Threats and bribes were without effect. Love might accomplish what the other two had failed to do. You know little of the ways of the world. Do you know that this house party is scandalous, for all its innocence? Do you know that Madame's name would be a byword were it known that we have been here more than two weeks, alone with two women? Who but a woman that feels herself above convention would dare offer this affront to society? Do you know why Madame the countess came? Company for Madame? No; she was to play make love to me to keep me out of the way. Ass that I was, I never suspected till too late! Madame's name is not Sylvia Amerbach; it is—”
The door opened unceremoniously and in walked the Colonel.
“Your voices are rather high, gentlemen,” he said calmly, and sat down in an easy chair.
CHAPTER XIII. BEING OF COMPLICATIONS NOT RECKONED ON
Maurice leaped to his feet, a menace in his eyes. The Colonel crossed his legs, rested his hands on the hilt of his saber, and smiled.