Monte Carlo;
true, further, that it is unwise to gamble heavily, to lose largely, to
confide the misfortune to a man of Paul's equivocal position and
reputation, to borrow twenty thousand francs of him, to lose or spend
all, save what served to return home with, and finally to acknowledge
the transaction and the obligation both very cordially by word of mouth
and (much worse) in letters which were--well, rather effusively
grateful. There was nothing absolutely criminal in all this, unless
the broken promise must be stigmatised as such; and of that Andrea had
heard: he was aware that she had renewed acquaintance with M. de
Roustache. The rest of the circumstances were so fatal in that they
made it impossible for her to atone for this first lapse. In fine,
Count Andrea, not content now to rely on her dishonoured honour, but
willing to trust to her strong religious feelings, had demanded of her
an oath that she would hold no further communication of any sort, kind,
or nature with Paul de Roustache. The oath was a terrible oath--to be
sworn on a relic which had belonged to the Cardinal and was most sacred
in the eyes of the Fieramondi. And with Paul in possession of those
letters and not in possession of his twenty thousand francs, the
Countess felt herself hardly a free agent. For if she did not
communicate with Paul, to a certainty Paul would communicate with
Andrea. If that happened she would die; while if she broke the oath
she would never dare to die. In this dilemma the Countess could do
nothing but declare--first, that she had met Paul accidentally (which
so far as the first meeting went was true enough), secondly, that she
would not live with a man who did not trust her; and, thirdly, that to
ask an oath of her was a cruel and wicked mockery from a man whose
views on the question of the Temporal Power proclaimed him to be
little, it at all, better than an infidel. The Count was very icy and
very polite. The Countess withdrew to the right wing; receiving the
Count's assurance that the erection of the barricade would not be
disagreeable to him, she had it built--and sat down behind it (so to
speak) awaiting in sorrow, dread, and loneliness the terrible moment of
Paul de Roustache's summons. And (to make one more confession on her
behalf) her secret and real reason for ordering that nightly
illumination, which annoyed the Count so sorely, lay in the hope of
making the same gentleman think, when he did arrive