"And you, madam," he demanded, "what do you seek to make of this matter? You speak too late. This should have come some months ago, then you had not found me deaf." And he smiled bitterly.
The Countess twisted her hands together and pressed them on her bosom.
She felt that she had been cheated of everything—of her youth, her freedom, her lover, her husband, even of the right to complain.
"You can say that now," she answered hoarsely. "Now it is too late, as you say, too late." She loosened her hands and grasped the edge of the table. "But I think I had stood a poor chance. You wanted the money."
The Earl made a little movement, and the candle-light on his pink silk shimmered.
She spoke again, in a tone of rage and deliberate insult.
"'Tis easy now for you to ignore me, to preach at me, for you have the money—my father's money—your price."
Even as the words left her lips, she knew they were what he would never forgive, and through her wrath she felt a touch of fear. Half-shrinking, she glanced at Marius.
He uttered a sound under his breath, and turned his back on her, moving towards the window.