“As to the sequel of your scheme, madam,” I continued, “the shame of it rests rather in success than failure. To your own conscience I leave it to justify your conduct. But I have little doubt that long practice has rendered your ladyship proficient in the art of deception to which I fell a victim.”
She threw back her proud head and gazed at me with flashing eyes. “And do you imagine, sir, even for a moment, that the part I degraded myself into playing was an easy one!” she replied scornfully. “To expose myself to the shame of your approval?”
“No, madam,” I answered sternly. “There you are wrong. For a man’s honest admiration, however humble his station in life, carries no shame to the woman who inspires it—were she the highest in the land.”
“Oh, sir,” she cried ironically, “spare me your sophistry; for honesty coupled with your name is too incongruous. And let me take this opportunity of informing you that thanks to your credulity the army of France, so long delayed, may land in safety on our shores to-night; and thus, sir, indirectly, you have hastened the first step that restores the Stuart to the throne.”
Then raising her voice so that all might hear: “God save King James!” she cried clearly; and the cry was enthusiastically caught up both by the gentlemen upon the terrace and the waiting crowd below.
“And you tell me this, madam?” I said in a choked voice when the clamour had died away.
She turned upon me with a scornful smile. “If you think that you can make use of the information, sir, you are welcome to do so,” she replied. “But I think—and these gentlemen will bear me witness—that your present position is scarcely to be envied.” And she mocked me. Standing there in the pride of her power and her beauty she mocked me—I, a weak and wounded prisoner!
“And you are wounded, too,” she continued pitilessly, “and by one scarce more than a boy—a boy!” she added with intense scorn. “I think if I remember right, sir, that you offered me the service of your sword. When I require such service from any man on my behalf, it shall be from one who has the wit and strength—aye, and skill enough to handle it.”
I stood trembling and dumb before her, gazing from one to the other of the ruthless, mocking faces around me, and back again to my lady’s scornful countenance. Yet was there no real cause for me to wonder at her present mood; for deep down in the heart of every woman—aye, even in the very best of them, there is an innate well of cruelty, a delight in inflicting pain upon our sex, which, it may be, is engendered by their physical inferiority. It was at this moment that, as with a sense of utter loneliness I faced my encircling enemies, a sudden faintness seized me. I know not whether it was due unto my wound, or whether all that I had passed through had overtaxed my strength, but I staggered back against the terrace wall. Yet even in that moment I was not so far unconscious but that I heard an exclamation of pity escape the lips of Mistress Grace.
“Madam,” I gasped hoarsely—I could bear no more—“let us end this. Kill me if you will, but for God’s sake end this!”