concentrated voice, "and having said it, will you go?"

"Mademoiselle, I have already said it," I answered, with a wistful
smile.

"Oh!" she gasped. Then suddenly facing round upon me, a world of
anger in her blue eyes - eyes that I had known dreamy, but which
were now very wide awake. "Was it to offer me this last insult you
forced your presence upon me? Was it to mock me with those words,
me - a woman, with no man about me to punish you? Shame, sir! Yet
it is no more than I might look for in you."

"Mademoiselle, you do me grievous wrong--" I began.

"I do you no wrong," she answered hotly, then stopped, unwilling
haply to be drawn into contention with me. "Enfin, since you have
said what you came to say will you go?" And she pointed to the door.

"Mademoiselle, mademoiselle--" I began in a voice of earnest
intercession.

"Go!" she interrupted angrily, and for a second the violence of her
voice and gesture almost reminded me of the Vicomtesse. "I will
hear no more from you."

"Mademoiselle, you shall," I answered no whit less firmly.

"I will not listen to you. Talk if you will. You shall have the
walls for audience." And she moved towards the door, but I barred
her passage. I was courteous to the last degree; I bowed low