"
"As you please. Pardon me, but I am inclined to sit down."
"Will you be brief?"
"As possible." The vicomte took in a long breath, reached a hand into
his breast and drew out a folded paper, oblong in shape.
At the sight of this madame's eyes first narrowed, then grew wide and
round.
"Begin, Monsieur," a suspicion of tremor in her tones.
"Well, then: fate or fortune has made you free; fate or fortune has
brought you into this wilderness. Here, civilization becomes less fine
in the grain; men reach forth toward objects brusquely and boldly.
Well, Madame, you know that for the past year I have loved you silently
and devotedly. . . ."
"If that is all, Monsieur . . . !" scornfully.
"Patience!" He tapped the paper with his hand. "Is there not
something about the shape of this paper, Madame, that is familiar?
Does it not recall to your mind something of vital importance?"
Madame placed her hand upon the back of the chair and the ends of her
fingers grew white from the pressure.
"The great Beaufort has scrawled negligently across this paper; the
sly, astute Gaston. My name is here, and so is yours, Madame.
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