"And you voted for his death," she flashed at him, voice and eye like a rapier thrust.
He raised his head with pride.
"Yes, Mademoiselle, I voted for his death."
"That is a chasm no human power can bridge," she said, in a level voice. "It lies between us—the King's death, the King's blood. You cannot pass to come to me—I may not pass to come to you."
There was an infinite troubled loneliness behind the pride in her eyes, and it smote him through his anger.
"Adieu, Mademoiselle," he said in a low, constrained voice. He neither touched her hand, nor kissed it, but he bowed with as much proud courtesy as if he had been her equal in pride of race. "Adieu, Mademoiselle."
"Adieu, Monsieur."
She passed out, and heard the door close harshly behind her. It shut away—ah, what? The Might-have-been—the Forbidden—Eden perhaps? She could not tell. Bewildered, and exhausted, she fell on her knees in the dark by her narrow bed, and sobbed out all the wild confusion of her heart.
CHAPTER XIII
DISTURBING INSINUATIONS