an she hesitated to rouse. She hesitated, and the
opportunity was gone. For her thought swerved to this: if only he had
not such handsome eyes! She dropped her hand.

"I will test this love," she said, with malice bubbling in her own
lovely orbs. "The Comte d'Herouville has grievously offended me. Will
you challenge him?" She meant nothing by this, save to gain time.

The Chevalier paled, recalling D'Herouville's threats. "He departs the
scene;" but the smile was on his lips alone.

"Then, there is the Vicomte d'Halluys; he, too, has offended me."

"The vicomte?" Challenge the vicomte, who had put D'Herouville in the
hospital that night of the fatal supper?

"Ah!" said madame; "you hesitate! And yet you ask me to put you to the
test!"

"I was weighing the matter of preference," with a wave of the hand;
"whether to challenge the vicomte first, or D'Herouville. Give me the
rest of the list."

"Monsieur, I admire the facility with which you adapt yourself to
circumstances," scornfully. "You knew that I was but playing. I am
fully capable of repaying any insolence offered to me, whether from
D'Herouville, the vicomte . . . or yourself."

"To love you, then, is insolence?"

"Yes; the method which you use is insolent."

"Is there any way to prove that I love you?" admirably hiding his
despair.

"What! Monsieur, you go a-courting without buckles on your shoes?"

"Diane, let us play at cross-purposes no longer. You may laugh,
thrust, scorn, trample, it will in no wise effect the constancy of my
love. I do not ask you to set tasks for me. Now, hark to me: where
you go henceforth, there shall I go also, to France, to Spain, to the
ends of the world. You will never be so far away from the sound of my
voice that you can not hear me say that I love you."

"That is persecution!"

"It is love. I shall master you some day," recovering his hat and
standing, "be that day near or far. I am a man, a man of heart and
courage. You need no proof of that. I have bent my knee to you for
the last time but once. I shall no more entreat," holding his head
high.

"Truly, Monsieur!" her wrath running over.

"Wait! You have forced me, for some purpose unknown, to love you.
Well, I will force you to love me, though God alone knows how."

"You do well to add that clause," hotly. "Your imagination is too
large. Force me to love you?" She laughed shrilly.

But his eye was steady, even though his broad ches