“What do I care if the whole world hears?” retorted Rose. “You didn't take the trouble of thinking about the world's opinion when you thrust your wife out into the street in the middle of the night and suffered her to be locked up at St. Lazarre as a common street-walker. Every dog has its day, Monsieur le Comte, and I mean to show you that I can be as cruel and relentless as you are yourself.”
“You surely will not betray me, Rose. You loved me once. I am a rich man now, and can do much for you, if you will only be reasonable,” exclaimed Frederick, imploringly.
He saw that his safety depended on Rose's silence and determined to do everything that he could to propitiate her and to gain time. She looked up with something like relenting in her hard blue eyes. The mention of his wealth had evidently created some impression on her mercenary nature.
“Why, why,” laughed she, “misfortunes seem to have rendered you more reasonable, and to have softened your temper somewhat. It's more than they have done for me. I don't think that I ever had what you can call un cœur sensible (a soft heart), but now I have none left at all. Give me money, jewels, an easy life, and I am easy enough to manage! A fig for sentiment! It's all bosh!”
Frederick, shuddering at the vulgarity displayed by the woman who was still legally his wife, and fearing that his friends, missing him, might hunt him up and insist on being introduced to his companion, touched her lightly on the shoulder, saying:
“Come, Rose, let me take you home. It is impossible to talk quietly here, and I have much to say to you. This is no place for you.”
The woman shook his hand off, with a sneer.
“How very particular you have become! This place is decidedly more pleasant than the “violon” (cell at police station) or St. Lazarre. It is true that the society which one meets at the Jardin Mabille is slightly mixed, but by far not so much as in the two places I have just mentioned. Come home with me, if you like. It will show you what you have made of me—of me, the Countess von Waldberg. I wonder if your conscience ever troubles you. You have a good deal to answer for, my dear Frederick!”
Frederick having dispatched a waiter to fetch her wraps from the cloak-room, for she had been sitting all this time with bared shoulders, offered her his arm and led her away. As they were stepping forth into the street, the young man felt a slight tap on his shoulder, and, turning quickly around, found himself face to face with one of his American friends, who laughingly exclaimed:
“I see you have met your fate, my dear Wolff; I congratulate you. Don't forget that we have those two men to lunch at the hotel to-morrow.”