Besides,
his love in no wise lessened his caution. His left hand was wound
tightly around the paper.
"Monsieur, you are without reason!"
"Love has crowded reason out."
"Your proposal is cruel and terrible."
"It is your angle of vision."
"I had thought to find peace and security; alas!"
"If I were positive that you loved some one else . . ." meditatively.
"Well?"
"I should hunt him out and kill him. There would then be no obstacle."
"You will do as you say: consign me to imprisonment or death?"
"As much as I love you. You have your choice."
"Give me but a day," she pleaded.
"Truthfully, I dare not."
"But this paper; I must see it!" wildly.
The vicomte's hand tightened. "I will place the paper in your hands on
the day of our marriage, unreservedly. You will then have the power to
commit me, if so you will. Come, Madame; it grows on toward night.
Which is it to be? A Montbazon's word is as good as a king's louis."
"Once it has been given!"
As a cat leaps, as the shadow of a bird passes, madame's hand flew out
and grasped the projecting end of the paper. The short struggle was
nothing; the red marks on her wrists were painless.
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