"He is my husband!" she answered. And there was a note of pride--almost of
triumph--in her voice.
An awful silence followed the launching of that thunderbolt. Eug?ne stood
with open mouth, staring now at Genevi?ve, now at his father. Andrea set
his arm about his bride's waist, and her fair head was laid trustingly upon
his shoulder. The Chevalier's eyes rolled ominously. At length he spoke
in a dangerously calm voice.
"How long is it--how long have you been wed?"
"We were wed in Blois an hour ago," answered Genevi?ve.
Something that was like a grunt escaped the Chevalier, then his eye
fastened upon me, and his anger boiled up.
"You knew of this?" he asked, coming towards me.
"I knew of it."
"Then you lied to me yesterday."
I drew myself up, stiff as a broomstick.
"I do not understand," I answered coldly.
"Did you not give me your assurance that M. de Mancini would marry Yvonne?"
"I did not, Monsieur. I did but tell you that he would wed your daughter.
And, ma foi! your daughter he has wed."
"You have fooled me, sc?l?rat!" he blazed out. "You, who have been
sheltered by--"
"Father!" Yvonne interrupted, taking his arm.
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