"And you are very brave in this room full of people!" he laughed, with his laugh which incited her to rage, when it did not subdue her. "No, I shouldn't thrash you," he continued. "I should kiss you."
"This is the last time you're going to speak to me!" she hissed, furiously. "Go away! Go away! Or I don't know what I shall do, I shall make a scene."
He sat down calmly:
"As you please," he said, quietly.
She stood trembling before him, impotent. Some one spoke to her; the footman handed her some tea. She was now in the midst of a circle of men; and, mastering herself, she jested, with loud, nervous gaiety, flirted more coquettishly than ever. There was a little court around her, with the Duke of Luca as its ringleader. Close by, Rudolph Brox sat drinking his tea, with apparent calmness, as though waiting. But his strong, masterful blood was boiling madly within him. He could have murdered her and he was seeing red with jealousy. That woman was his, despite the law. He was not going to be afraid of any more scandal. She was beautiful, she was as he wished her to be and he wanted her, his wife. He knew how he would win her back; and this time he would not lose her, this time she should be his, for as long as he wished.
As soon as he was able to speak to her unheard, he came up to her again. She was just going to Urania whom she saw sitting with Mrs. Uxeley, when he said in her ear, sternly and abruptly:
"Cornélie...."
She turned round mechanically, but with her haughty glance. She would rather have gone on, but could not: something held her back, a secret strength, a secret superiority, which sounded in his voice and flowed into her with a weight as of bronze that weakened and paralysed her energy.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I want to speak to you alone."