She puffed delicately at her cigarette. "He stayed with me two weeks at
Melcourt-le-Danois. That is, he stayed at the inn in the village. It was
the same thing. I was very angry with my niece before that. It was he
who made me see differently. If it were not for him I shouldn't be
here. He traveled to France expressly to beg my help--how shall I
say?--on your behalf--in simplifying things--so that you and Olivia
might be free from your sense of obligation to him--and might marry--"
"Did he say he was in love with her himself?"
She ignored the hoarse suffering in his voice to take another puff or
two at her cigarette. "Ma foi, Col-on-el, he didn't have to."
"Did he say--" He swallowed hard, and began again, more hoarsely: "Did
he say she was--in love with--with _him_?"
There was a hint of rebuke in her tone. "He's a very loyal gentleman. He
didn't."
"Did he make you think--?"
"What he made me think, Col-on-el, is my own affair."
He jumped to his feet, throwing his cigar violently into the fire. For a
minute or two he stood glaring at the embers. When he turned on her it
was savagely.
"May I ask your motive in springing this on me, Marquise?"
"Mon Dieu, Col-on-el, I thought you'd like to know what a friend you
have."
"Damn his friendship. That's not the reason. You've something up your
sleeve."
She looked up at him innocently. "Have I? Then I must leave it to you to
tell me what it is. But when you do," she added, smiling, "I hope you'll
take another tone. In France men are gallant with women--"
"And in England women are straight with men. What they have to say they
say. They don't lay snares, or lie in ambush."
She laughed. "Quant à cela, Col-on-el, il y en a pour tous les goûts,
même en Angleterre."
"I'll bid you good-by, madame."
He bowed stiffly, and went out into the hail. She continued to smoke
daintily, pensively, while she listened to him noisily pulling on his
overcoat and taking his stick from the stand. As he passed the library
door he stopped on the threshold.
"By Gad, she's _mine_!" he said, fiercely.
She got up and went to him, taking him by the lapel of the coat. There
was something like pity in her eyes as she said: "My poor fellow, nobody
has raised that question. What's more, nobody _will_ raise it--unless
you do yourself."