FullReads

“It is intended, then,” John Bulmer queried, “that I am to follow Achon?”

“I can but trust,” said the Marquis, politely, “that your course of life has qualified you for a superior flight, since Achon’s departing, I apprehend, is not unakin to a descent.”

“No!” the Duchess cried, suddenly; “Monsieur de Soyecourt, can you not see the man is out of his senses? Let Claire be sent for. There is some mistake.”

De Soyecourt shrugged. “Yen know that I can refuse you nothing. Jacques,” he called, to the appearing lackey, “request Mademoiselle de Puysange to honor us, if it be convenient, with her presence. Nay, I pray you, do not rise, Mr. Bulmer; I am of a nervous disposition, startled by the least movement, and my finger, as you may note, is immediately upon the trigger.”

So they sat thus, John Bulmer beginning to feel rather foolish as time wore on, though actually it was not a long while before Claire had appeared in the doorway and had paused there. You saw a great wave of color flood her countenance, then swiftly ebb. John Bulmer observed, with a thrill, that she made no sound, but simply waited, composed and alert, to find out how much de Soyecourt knew before she spoke.

The little Marquis said, “Claire, this gentleman informs us that you married him yesterday.”

Tranquilly she inspected her claimant. “I did not see Monsieur Bulmer at all yesterday, so far as I remember. Why, surely, Louis, you did not take my nonsense of last night in earnest?” she demanded, and gave a mellow ripple of laughter. “Yes, you actually believed it; you actually believed that I walked into the forest and married the first man I met there, and that this is he. As it happens I did not; so please let Monsieur Bulmer go at once, and put away that absurd pistol–at once, Louis, do you hear?”

The Duchess shook her head. “She is lying, Monsieur de Soyecourt, and undoubtedly this is the man.”

John Bulmer went to the girl and took her hand. “You are trying to save me, I know. But need I warn you that the reward of Ananias was never a synonym for felicity?”

“Jean Bulmer! Jean Bulmer!” the girl asked, and her voice was tender; “why did you return to Bellegarde, Jean Bulmer?”

“I came,” he answered, “for the absurd reason that I cannot live without you.”

They stood thus for a while, both her hands clasped in his, “I believe you,” she said at last, “even though I do not understand at all, Jean Bulmer.” And then she wheeled upon the Marquis, “Yes, yes!” Claire said; “the man is my husband. And I will not have him harmed. Do you comprehend?–you shall not touch him, because you are not fit to touch him, Louis, and also because I do not wish it.”

De Soyecourt looked toward the Duchess as if for advice. “It is a nuisance, but evidently she cannot marry Milor Ormskirk so long as Mr. Bulmer is alive. I suppose it would be better to hang him out-of-hand?”

“Monsieur de Puysange would prefer it, I imagine,” said the Duchess; “nevertheless, it appears a great pity.”

“In nature,” the Marquis assented, “we deplore the loss of Mr. Bulmer’s company. Yet as matters stand–“

“But they are in love with each other,” the Duchess pointed out, with a sorry little laugh. “Can you not see that, my friend?”

“Hein?” said the Marquis; “why, then, it is doubly important that Mr. Bulmer be hanged as soon as possible.” He reached for the gong, but Claire had begun to speak.

“I am not at all in love with him! You are of a profound imbecility, Hélène. I think he is a detestable person, because he always looks at you as if he saw something extremely ridiculous, but was too polite to notice it. He is invariably making me suspect I have a smut on my nose. But in spite of that, I consider him a very pleasant old gentleman, and I will not have him hanged!” With which ultimatum she stamped her foot.