Limitless astonishment mingled now with her terror and confusion. Was this the man whom she had led by the proverbial silken thread? “Don’t you realize,” he was saying, “that you can no longer influence me; that I clearly see through the tricks and shams you have always practised upon me; that my eyes are wide open at last?” Gripping the edge of the lounge with both hands, she stared at him in utter consternation, helpless, defeated, robbed at one stroke of all her weapons. “Women,” he pursued in that well-controlled, level tone that gave her such a sense of powerlessness, “hold different views of honor from what we do. I had never quite believed this, because our women are apart from the common herd, but you have convinced me. You are alarmed at the thought--not of losing me, but what I represent to you, and you are at the present minute perfectly willing to surrender unconditionally, even after what I have just told you, were I cowardly enough to accept such a surrender. You think that my anger will pass; but you may as well know that this is not going to be the case, because you have robbed me not only of the present, but of the past--because you have never been faithful to me, even when you first put your hand in mine and swore to be true, and because now I do not believe in you and never will!” “But what makes you say these hideous things?” she gasped. “What have I done to deserve such cruelty--such contempt--such injustice?” There was still something wanting in his accusation--she felt it instinctively; something she dreaded to hear him tell, and yet must know; something he, a gentleman, hated to say. “The knowledge that you have always betrayed me,” he said at last; “you who married me for gain, because your lover was too poor to be a welcome husband!” “My lover!” she shrieked. “That is false! I have no lover!” “Pardon me, madame,” he said, “some time ago I found it was necessary for my honor to learn what I could about your past--and--your present. A little late, no doubt, but what will you? We Russians are hard to rouse, but still harder to deceive twice over. Long before you knew me Neville Moray was your lover--he has continued to be so ever since. How far your--affection carried you before our marriage I do not know--but since then you have seen him at regular intervals, secretly, shamefully, and now”--his voice broke suddenly in a horrible way--“now I am forced to doubt the legitimacy of your son.” From the long gallery beyond her apartments gay, childish shouts came ringing to their ears.