Pride had kept him from her, and, woman-like, she meant to win
back that conquest which had been hers before. Suddenly it seemed to
her that the only happiness life could every hold for her again would
be in feeling that man's kiss once more upon her lips.
"Listen to the tale, Sir Percy," she said, and her voice was
low, sweet, infinitely tender. "Armand was all in all to me! We had
no parents, and brought one another up. He was my little father, and
I, his tiny mother; we loved one another so. Then one day--do you
mind me, Sir Percy? the Marquis de St. Cyr had my brother Armand
thrashed--thrashed by his lacqueys--that brother whom I loved better
than all the world! And his offence? That he, a plebeian, had dared
to love the daughter of the aristocrat; for that he was waylaid and
thrashed. . .thrashed like a dog within an inch of his life! Oh, how
I suffered! his humiliation had eaten into my very soul! When the
opportunity occurred, and I was able to take my revenge, I took it.
But I only thought to bring that proud marquis to trouble and
humiliation. He plotted with Austria against his own country.
Pages:
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212