“And after that,” she concluded, “there was an end of it. My Helena would not have the parson’s daughter’s leavings. And quite right.” She shut up her mouth with a snap.
But she opened it again immediately.
“Nevertheless,” she went on, “I consider she exaggerates. Especially because she cared for you, and your previous belle evidently did not. It is for that I am come. The step is absurd, perhaps, but what is that to me? I am come to say the marriage with this little rabbit-eye is a farce. It must be prevented. Go tell my Helena that there is nothing between you and the fiancée of your brother. Women are vain; who knows but what this Ursula has lied? You appear sincere. And I say one thing more, though I should not. Mark me. Helena will marry you if she can. She is proud, poor little thing, as she has a right to be, but—Ah, these men, these men! Then you will bid the little comrade go away home. I do not love you, Monsieur Gerard. I do not say these things for love of you. But they are true.”
“HE WENT FORWARD WITH HIS FINGERS AT HIS COLLAR-STUD”
She had spoken with suppressed vehemence, she now smiled a thin smile, and her lips trembled.
“I do not know what to say or think,” replied Gerard, greatly agitated. “Towards Ursula, at least, I am innocent. What interest can she have had in ruining my chance with Helena? Mademoiselle, you—you must really excuse me. I am going out to dinner. I shall be late as it is!” He started gladly to his feet.
She also rose, with a great rustle of scorn.
“Good-night, Monsieur,” she said. “A benevolent fairy—remember there are old fairies—has shown you the hole in the hedge; will you have the sense to creep through unscratched? Ah, be sure that I should rather have barred your path with my body, but that love cannot bear to see the whole life of the beauty benumbed in the wrong prince’s arms. Princes, forsooth!” She dropped him a courtesy and hurried away.