"Madame!"
"Monsieur, is it not a grey cloak which you have to offer?" with sudden
inspiration. For madame had been thinking lately of that garment which
had played so large a part in her destiny. "Have you not the cloak to
offer which made me a widow? Monsieur, the sight of you makes me ill.
Pray, go about your affairs and leave me in peace. Love you? I abhor
you. I can not speak in plainer language."
He muttered an oath inarticulately.
"Take care, Madame!" standing in front of her. How easily he might
crush the life from that delicate throat! He checked his rage. Within
three hundred yards was the palisade. "I would not be here in these
cursed wilds but for your sake. You know the persistence of my love;
take heed lest you learn the quality of my hate."
"Neither your love nor your hate shall in the future disturb me. There
are men yonder. Do you wish me to shame you by calling them?"
"I have warned you!"
He stepped aside, and she passed on, the rain drenching her hair and
face. His gaze, freighted with love and hate and despair, followed
her. She was lost to him. He knew it. She had always been lost to
him, only her laughter and her smiles had blinded him to the truth.
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