The Puppet Crown [60]
She saw her way to the end.
"It is true," she said, "that I do not love you, but it is also true that I am not indifferent to you. What proof have I that you really love me? None, save your declaration; and that is not sufficient for a woman such as I am. Shall I place my life in your hands for better or for worse, simply because you say you love me?"
"My love does not reason, Madame."
She passed over this stroke. "I do not know you; it is not less than natural for me to doubt you. What proof have I that your declaration of love is not a scheme to while away your captivity at my expense? My heart is not one to be taken by storm. There is only one road to my affections; it is narrow. Other men have made love to me, but they have hesitated to enter upon this self- same road."
"Love that demands conditions? I have asked none."
Madame blushed. "A man offers love; a woman confers it."
"And what is this narrow road called which leads to your affections? Is your heart a citadel?"
"It is called sacrifice. Those who dwell in my heart, which you call a citadel, enter by that road."
"Sacrifice?" Fervor lighted his face again. "Do you wish my fortune? It is yours. My life? It is yours. Do you wish me to lead the army of the duchess into Bleiberg? It shall be done. Sacrifice? I have sacrificed the best years of youth for nothing; my life has been made up of sacrifices."
"Monsieur, if I promised to listen to you here-after, if I promised a heart that has never known the love of man, if I promised lips that have never known the lips of any man save my father--" She moved away from the chair, within an arm's length of him. "If I promised all these without reservation, would you aid me to give back to the duchess her own?"
Instantly her arms were pinioned to her sides, and he had drawn her so close that she could feel his heart beat against her own.
"Have no fear," he said. The voice was unfamiliar to her ears. "I shall not kiss you. Let me look into your eyes, Madame, your eyes, and read the lie which is written there. My fortune and my life are not enough. Keep your love, Madame; I have no wish to purchase it. What! if I surrender my honor it is agreed that you surrender yours? A love such as mine requires a wife. You would have me break my word to the dead and to the living, and you expect me to believe in your promises! Faugh!" He pushed her from him, and resumed his stand by the window.
The hate of a thousand ancestors surged into her heart, and she would have liked to kill him. Mistress! He had dared. He had dared to speak to her as no other man living or dead had dared. And he lived. All that was tigerish in her soul rose to the surface; only the thought of the glittering goal stayed the outburst. She had yet one weapon. A minute went by, still another; silence. A hand was laid tremblingly on his arm.
"Forgive me! I was wrong. Love me, love me, if you must. Keep your honor; love me without conditions. I--" She stumbled into the chair, covered her eyes and fell to weeping.
Fitzgerald, dumfounded and dismayed, looked. down at the beautiful head. He could fight angry words, tempests of wrath-- but tears, a woman's tears, the tears of the woman he loved!
"Madame," he said gently, "do you love me?"
No answer.
"Madame, for God's sake, do not weep! Do you love me? If you love me--if you love me--"
She sprang to her feet. Once again she experienced that shiver; again her conscience stirred.
"I do not know," she said. "But this I may say: your honor, which you hold above the price of a woman's love, will be the cause of bloodshed. Mothers and wives and sisters will execrate your name, brave men will be sacrificed needlessly. What are the Osians to you? They are strangers. You will do for them, and uselessly, what you refuse to do for the woman you profess to love. I abhor bloodshed. Your honor is the offspring of pride and egotism. Can you not see the inevitable? War will be declared. You can not help Leopold; but you can save him the
"It is true," she said, "that I do not love you, but it is also true that I am not indifferent to you. What proof have I that you really love me? None, save your declaration; and that is not sufficient for a woman such as I am. Shall I place my life in your hands for better or for worse, simply because you say you love me?"
"My love does not reason, Madame."
She passed over this stroke. "I do not know you; it is not less than natural for me to doubt you. What proof have I that your declaration of love is not a scheme to while away your captivity at my expense? My heart is not one to be taken by storm. There is only one road to my affections; it is narrow. Other men have made love to me, but they have hesitated to enter upon this self- same road."
"Love that demands conditions? I have asked none."
Madame blushed. "A man offers love; a woman confers it."
"And what is this narrow road called which leads to your affections? Is your heart a citadel?"
"It is called sacrifice. Those who dwell in my heart, which you call a citadel, enter by that road."
"Sacrifice?" Fervor lighted his face again. "Do you wish my fortune? It is yours. My life? It is yours. Do you wish me to lead the army of the duchess into Bleiberg? It shall be done. Sacrifice? I have sacrificed the best years of youth for nothing; my life has been made up of sacrifices."
"Monsieur, if I promised to listen to you here-after, if I promised a heart that has never known the love of man, if I promised lips that have never known the lips of any man save my father--" She moved away from the chair, within an arm's length of him. "If I promised all these without reservation, would you aid me to give back to the duchess her own?"
Instantly her arms were pinioned to her sides, and he had drawn her so close that she could feel his heart beat against her own.
"Have no fear," he said. The voice was unfamiliar to her ears. "I shall not kiss you. Let me look into your eyes, Madame, your eyes, and read the lie which is written there. My fortune and my life are not enough. Keep your love, Madame; I have no wish to purchase it. What! if I surrender my honor it is agreed that you surrender yours? A love such as mine requires a wife. You would have me break my word to the dead and to the living, and you expect me to believe in your promises! Faugh!" He pushed her from him, and resumed his stand by the window.
The hate of a thousand ancestors surged into her heart, and she would have liked to kill him. Mistress! He had dared. He had dared to speak to her as no other man living or dead had dared. And he lived. All that was tigerish in her soul rose to the surface; only the thought of the glittering goal stayed the outburst. She had yet one weapon. A minute went by, still another; silence. A hand was laid tremblingly on his arm.
"Forgive me! I was wrong. Love me, love me, if you must. Keep your honor; love me without conditions. I--" She stumbled into the chair, covered her eyes and fell to weeping.
Fitzgerald, dumfounded and dismayed, looked. down at the beautiful head. He could fight angry words, tempests of wrath-- but tears, a woman's tears, the tears of the woman he loved!
"Madame," he said gently, "do you love me?"
No answer.
"Madame, for God's sake, do not weep! Do you love me? If you love me--if you love me--"
She sprang to her feet. Once again she experienced that shiver; again her conscience stirred.
"I do not know," she said. "But this I may say: your honor, which you hold above the price of a woman's love, will be the cause of bloodshed. Mothers and wives and sisters will execrate your name, brave men will be sacrificed needlessly. What are the Osians to you? They are strangers. You will do for them, and uselessly, what you refuse to do for the woman you profess to love. I abhor bloodshed. Your honor is the offspring of pride and egotism. Can you not see the inevitable? War will be declared. You can not help Leopold; but you can save him the