“This he had said to Eugenie, and then had bought her the diamond set at Tiffany’s which she admired so much, had driven with her in the Bois de Boulogne, and afterward dined with her in the little fairy palace just off the Champs d’Elysees, her home, of which she had the title-deed in her possession. And yet, in his heart, Ernest Haverleigh respected Anna far more than he did this woman, who so fascinated and enthralled him, for though Anna had come to him with a lie on her lips, and a lie in her heart, and had wounded his self-love cruelly, she was pure and womanly, while Eugenie was steeped to the dregs in sin and in intrigue. “But she ruled him completely, and if he had desired he did not dare take Anna back with him to Paris and present her as his wife, and he was not bad enough to cast upon her publicly the odium of being his mistress. Neither would he send her back to America, for there was no pretext whatever by which he could be free from the bond which held him her husband. She had plenty of pretexts, he had none. He could not let her go, and besides, he was conscious of a real interest in her, a something which fascinated him, and made him wish to keep her at Chateau d’Or, where he, and he alone, could see her at his will. Some time, perhaps, when Eugenie was less troublesome, he might take her away, but not now, and when she said to him so pleadingly, ‘Will you let me go, home?’ he answered her very gently, ‘Poor child, you have no home to go to in America. Your home is here, with me. Not always Chateau d’Or, for some time I mean to take you with me. I cannot do so now for certain reasons, but by and by—so be patient, and wait for the happiness in store.’ “A shudder was Anna’s only answer, as she turned her face away from him and wished that she might die. For five weeks Mr. Haverleigh remained at the chateau, devoting himself entirely to Anna, who, while shrinking with intense disgust from his caresses, permitted them because she must. To Madame Verwest he was very distant and cold, treating her civilly, it is true, but always in a manner which showed how wide was the distance between them. He was master, she was servant, and he made her feel it keenly. Once, however, when she came suddenly upon him as he sat alone in his room, she laid her hand on his arm, and asked: “‘How long is this to go on?’ “‘What to go on?’ he replied, savagely, and she continued: “‘This horrid life of sin and deception. You know the girl’s mother is not dead.’ “‘It’s a lie!’ he cried, springing to his feet. ‘A lie—I swear it to you! And you shall not interfere, or if you do, by——’ “There was a frightful oath as he threatened the trembling woman, who did not speak again while he went on: