ittle of a rake, he wins in three moves.
Now, if I undertook a woman of that sort, I should start with the
deliberate purpose of----" His voice sank to a whisper over the last
words in Armand's ear, and he went before there was time to reply.

As for Montriveau, he sprang at a bound across the courtyard of the
Hotel de Langeais, went unannounced up the stairs straight to the
Duchess's bedroom.

"This is an unheard-of thing," she said, hastily wrapping her
dressing-gown about her. "Armand! this is abominable of you! Come, leave
the room, I beg. Just go out of the room, and go at once. Wait for me in
the drawing-room.--Come now!"

"Dear angel, has a plighted lover no privilege whatsoever?"

"But, monsieur, it is in the worst possible taste of a plighted lover or
a wedded husband to break in like this upon his wife."

He came up to the Duchess, took her in his arms, and held her tightly to
him.

"Forgive, dear Antoinette; but a host of horrid doubts are fermenting in
my heart."

"_Doubts_? Fie!--Oh, fie on you!"

"Doubts all but justified. If you loved me, would you make this quarrel?
Would you not be glad to see me? Would you not have felt a something
stir in your heart? For I, that am not a woman, feel a thrill in my
inmost self at the mere sound of your voice. Often in a ballroom a
longing has come upon me to spring to your side and put my arms about
your neck."

"Oh! if you have doubts of me so long as I am not ready to spring to
your arms before all the world, I shall be doubted all my life long, I
suppose. Why, Othello was a mere child compared with you!"

"Ah!" he cried despairingly, "you have no love for me----"

"Admit, at any rate, that at this moment you are not lovable."

"Then I have still to find favour in your sight?"

"Oh, I should think so. Come," added she, "with a little imperious air,
go out of the room, leave me. I am not like you; I wish always to find
favour in your eyes."

Never woman better understood the art of putting charm into insolence,
and does not the charm double the effect? is it not enough to infuriate
the coolest of men? There was a sort of untrammeled freedom about Mme
de Langeais; a something in her eyes, her voice, her attitude, which is
never seen in a woman who loves when she stands face to face with him at
the mere sight of whom her heart must needs begin to beat. The Marquis
de Ronquerolles' counsels had cured Armand of sheepishness; and further,
there came to hi