For half that speech I
should have killed a man--indeed, I had killed men for less than half. And
yet, for all the passion that raged in my soul, I preserved upon my
countenance a smiling mask. That smile exhausted her patience and
increased her loathing, for with a contemptuous exclamation she turned
away.
"Tarry but a moment, Mademoiselle," I cried, with a sudden note of command.
"Or, if you will go, go then; but take with you my assurance that before
nightfall you will weep bitterly for it."
My words arrested her. The mystery of them awakened her curiosity.
"You speak in riddles, Monsieur."
"Like a true wizard, Mademoiselle. You received a letter this morning in a
handwriting unknown, and bearing no signature."
She wheeled round and faced me again with a little gasp of astonishment.
"How know you that? Ah! I understand; you wrote it!"
"What shrewdness, Mademoiselle!" I laughed, ironically. "Come; think
again. What need have I to bid you meet me in the coppice yonder? May I
not speak freely with you here?"
"You know the purport of that letter?"
"I do, Mademoiselle, and I know more.
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