Junia saw the girl was in emotional turmoil, was obsessed by one idea,
and she felt her task had vast difficulty. That Carnac should have
married the girl was incredible, that he had played an unworthy part
seemed sure; yet it was in keeping with his past temperament. The girl
was the extreme contrast of himself, with dark--almost piercing-eyes, and
a paleness which was physically constitutional--the joy of the artistic
spirit. It was the head of a tragedienne or a martyr, and the lean,
rather beautiful body was eloquent of life.

Presently Junia said: "To try to spoil him would be a crime against his
country, and I shall tell him you are here."

"He'll do nothing at all." The French girl's words were suddenly biting,
malicious and defiant. The moment's softness she had felt was gone, and
hardness returned. "If he hasn't moved against me since he married me,
he wouldn't dare do so now."

"Why hasn't he moved? Because you're a woman, and also he'd believe
you'd repent of your conduct. But I believe he will act sternly against
you at once. There is much at stake."

"You want it for your own sake," said Luzanne sharply. "You think he'd
marry you if I gave him up."

"Perhaps he'd ask me to marry him, if you weren't in the way, but I'd
have my own mind about that, and knowing what you've told me--truth or
lie--I'd weigh it all carefully. Besides, he's not the only man.
Doesn't that ever strike you? Why try to hold him by a spurious bond
when there are other men as good-looking, as clever? Is your world so