‘Take care of what, Monsieur?’
‘Of the world—of me. Voilà! If you do not marry me, you will never marry another man! You do not know me—I am desperate. I will follow you up and down the world—I will say such things, ah, Dieu, what will I not say?—until at last you go upon your bended knees and beg me to make you my wife.’
As he speaks his face is livid with fury, and he seems positively transformed. The girl looks at him in supreme astonishment and growing dislike; then she gives a little forced laugh.
‘Do not lose your temper, Monsieur. One would think you were giving a French lesson to one of the little girls.’
‘I will give you such a lesson,’ he exclaims, ‘as you will remember. I am not a common man, and I will not be so befooled—no, no! You treat all love as nothing—at my devotion you laugh—you are cruel, but I can be cruel too.—Ah, now, I do not mean that! I love you too well. You promised to marry me, and you will marry me, n’est-ce pas, my Madeline?’
He starts and tries to compose his features, for that moment the obnoxious third party re-enters the room, and, taking a chair, proceeds, with an air of great carelessness, to read a journal.
After an awkward suspense of some minutes, Belleisle, in his turn, leaves the apartment, not without glancing significantly at the stranger, and expressively putting his finger to his lips to enjoin silence.
Scarcely has he vanished when the third party rises, looks at Madeline, and, walking quietly over to her, says in English—
‘Pardon me, but is that gentleman your husband?’