“‘Patience, sir—patience. The time will come when we shall meet face to face; but the hour of that mortal combat has not yet tolled.’
“‘I wait your orders; from this day forward I am ready.’
“‘I expected no less, sir, from your courage.’
“There was a pause, and then Marsanne continued.
“‘Whatever be the issue of our duel,’ he said, ‘you have poisoned my life, heaped misery and bitterness upon the rest of my days. I believe you capable of appreciating what I am about to demand. Yesterday, sir, when I became aware of my dishonour, my first thought was a thought of blood. Then I examined my own conscience—a cruel and painful examination, for I was compelled to own that if Madame de Marsanne had betrayed me she was not alone to blame. I searched the innermost recesses of my heart, and I felt that this woman, abandoned by her husband, had at least the excuses of unhappiness and neglect. I thought of my poor child, whose mother’s name I should tarnish, and my thirst of vengeance yielded to these all-powerful considerations. Honour requires, sir, that I should take your life, or you mine: but it demands still more imperatively that the cause of the duel should remain unknown.’
“‘A pretext is easily found: a quarrel at the theatre or club will suffice.’
“‘What, sir’ replied Marsanne, ‘you, who know the world and its greedy curiosity as well as I do, can you think that it will be satisfied with a frivolous pretext, and will not strive, by cruel investigation, to penetrate our secret? No, sir! to-day a duel would leave too large a field for conjecture; our meeting must be prepared long before-hand. In this night of agony I have calculated every thing the interests of my vengeance, the interests of my honour, the interests of a woman whom I still love.’
“The Count’s voice quivered as he pronounced these last words, and a scalding tear coursed down his cheek.
“‘Your wishes are orders for me,’ said Vassigny.
“‘You shall give me your word of honour,’ continued the Count, ‘that from this moment you will see Madame de Marsanne no more. Then, resuming a gay life, you shall make a parade of some intrigue, either in society or behind the scenes of a theatre, which, by misleading suspicion, will enable us to have the meeting you must desire as much as myself.’