The calm of her voice, though he knew it to be forced, surprised him.
"How did I obtain it? By strategy."

"Ah! not by the sword, then?" leaning upon the table, her fingers alone
betraying her agitation. "Not by the sword, and the mask, and the grey
cloak?"

As if the question afforded him infinite amusement, the vicomte laughed.

"Would I be here?" he said. "Would I have ventured into this desert?
Rather would I not have spoken yonder in France? I shall tell you how
I obtained it . . . after we are married."

Madame raised a hand and nervously tapped a knuckle against her teeth.

"Which is it to be, Madame?" caressing the paper.

"Monsieur, you are not without foresight and reason. Have you
contemplated what I should become in time, forced into a marriage with
a man whom I should not love, with whom I should always associate the
sword, and the mask, and the grey cloak?"

"I have speculated upon that side of it," easily, "and am willing to
take the risk. In time you would forget all about the sword and the
cloak, since they can in no wise be associated with me. Eventually you
would grow to love me."

"Either you understand nothing about women, or you are guilty of gross
fatuity."