I have deceived you basely. However strong the motive may have
been, it can never excuse the pitiful subterfuge which I used to gain
my end. But, madame, if your goodness will permit me to tell you----"
The Vicomtesse glanced at M. de Nueil, haughty disdain in her whole
manner. She stretched her hand to the bell and rang it.
"Jacques," she said, "light this gentleman to the door," and she
looked with dignity at the visitor.
She rose proudly, bowed to Gaston, and then stooped for the fallen
volume. If all her movements on his entrance had been caressingly
dainty and gracious, her every gesture now was no less severely
frigid. M. de Nueil rose to his feet, but he stood waiting. Mme. de
Beauseant flung another glance at him. "Well, why do you not go?" she
seemed to say.
There was such cutting irony in that glance that Gaston grew white as
if he were about to faint. Tears came into his eyes, but he would not
let them fall, and scorching shame and despair dried them. He looked
back at Madame de Beauseant, and a certain pride and consciousness of
his own worth was mingled with his humility; the Vicomtesse had a
right to punish him, but ought she to use her right? Then he went out.
As he crossed the ante-chamber, a clear head, and wits sharpened by
passion, were not slow to grasp the danger of his situation.
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