"Is it permissible to ask His Majesty the King of Sorcerers when I made the mistake of touching the axe, since I have not been to London as yet?----""NOT SO," he answered in English, with a burst of ironical laughter.
"And when will the punishment begin?"
At this Montriveau coolly took out his watch, and ascertained the hour with a truly appalling air of conviction.
"A dreadful misfortune will befall you before this day is out.""I am not a child to be easily frightened, or rather, I am a child ignorant of danger," said the Duchess."I shall dance now without fear on the edge of the precipice.""I am delighted to know that you have so much strength of character," he answered, as he watched her go to take her place in a square dance.
But the Duchess, in spite of her apparent contempt for Armand's dark prophecies, was really frightened.Her late lover's presence weighed upon her morally and physically with a sense of oppression that scarcely ceased when he left the ballroom.And yet when she had drawn freer breath, and enjoyed the relief for a moment, she found herself regretting the sensation of dread, so greedy of extreme sensations is the feminine nature.The regret was not love, but it was certainly akin to other feelings which prepare the way for love.And then--as if the impression which Montriveau had made upon her were suddenly revived--she recollected his air of conviction as he took out his watch, and in a sudden spasm of dread she went out.
By this time it was about midnight.One of her servants, waiting with her pelisse, went down to order her carriage.On her way home she fell naturally enough to musing over M.de Montriveau's prediction.Arrived in her own courtyard, as she supposed, she entered a vestibule almost like that of her own hotel, and suddenly saw that the staircase was different.She was in a strange house.Turning to call her servants, she was attacked by several men, who rapidly flung a handkerchief over her mouth, bound her hand and foot, and carried her off.She shrieked aloud.
"Madame, our orders are to kill you if you scream," a voice said in her ear.
So great was the Duchess's terror, that she could never recollect how nor by whom she was transported.When she came to herself, she was lying on a couch in a bachelor's lodging, her hands and feet tied with silken cords.In spite of herself, she shrieked aloud as she looked round and met Armand de Montriveau's eyes.
He was sitting in his dressing-gown, quietly smoking a cigar in his armchair.
"Do not cry out, Mme la Duchesse," he said, coolly taking the cigar out of his mouth; "I have a headache.Besides, I will untie you.But listen attentively to what I have the honour to say to you."Very carefully he untied the knots that bound her feet.
"What would be the use of calling out? Nobody can hear your cries.You are too well bred to make any unnecessary fuss.If you do not stay quietly, if you insist upon a struggle with me, Ishall tie your hands and feet again.All things considered, Ithink that you have self-respect enough to stay on this sofa as if you were lying on your own at home; cold as ever, if you will.
You have made me shed many tears on this couch, tears that I hid from all other eyes."While Montriveau was speaking, the Duchess glanced about her; it was a woman's glance, a stolen look that saw all things and seemed to see nothing.She was much pleased with the room.It was rather like a monk's cell.The man's character and thoughts seemed to pervade it.No decoration of any kind broke the grey painted surface of the walls.A green carpet covered the floor.
A black sofa, a table littered with papers, two big easy-chairs, a chest of drawers with an alarum clock by way of ornament, a very low bedstead with a coverlet flung over it--a red cloth with a black key border--all these things made part of a whole that told of a life reduced to its simplest terms.A triple candle-sconce of Egyptian design on the chimney-piece recalled the vast spaces of the desert and Montriveau's long wanderings; a huge sphinx-claw stood out beneath the folds of stuff at the bed-foot; and just beyond, a green curtain with a black and scarlet border was suspended by large rings from a spear handle above a door near one corner of the room.The other door by which the band had entered was likewise curtained, but the drapery hung from an ordinary curtain-rod.As the Duchess finally noted that the pattern was the same on both, she saw that the door at the bed-foot stood open; gleams of ruddy light from the room beyond flickered below the fringed border.Naturally, the ominous light roused her curiosity; she fancied she could distinguish strange shapes in the shadows; but as it did not occur to her at the time that danger could come from that quarter, she tried to gratify a more ardent curiosity.
"Monsieur, if it is not indiscreet, may I ask what you mean to do with me?" The insolence and irony of the tone stung through the words.The Duchess quite believed that she read extravagant love in Montriveau's speech.He had carried her off; was not that in itself an acknowledgment of her power?
"Nothing whatever, madame," he returned, gracefully puffing the last whiff of cigar smoke."You will remain here for a short time.First of all, I should like to explain to you what you are, and what I am.I cannot put my thoughts into words whilst you are twisting on the sofa in your boudoir; and besides, in your own house you take offence at the slightest hint, you ring the bell, make an outcry, and turn your lover out at the door as if he were the basest of wretches.Here my mind is unfettered.
Here nobody can turn me out.Here you shall be my victim for a few seconds, and you are going to be so exceedingly kind as to listen to me.You need fear nothing.I did not carry you off to insult you, nor yet to take by force what you refused to grant of your own will to my unworthiness.I could not stoop so low.You possibly think of outrage; for myself, I have no such thoughts."He flung his cigar coolly into the fire.
