Indeed she had already applied that torture with that mocking invitation to Chambray. Why was it that I had so failed to touch a responsive chord in her? Or rather why, at the very moment I fancied I had touched it, should she draw back and deal me a cruel blow? Perhaps she fancied there was kindness in this cruelty; perhaps she was trying to save me from sinking too deeply into the quicksand which entangled me. Alas! I felt that I was already past all hope of rescue. So a real kindness would have been to make my last moments as happy as might be ere the sands closed over me and divided us forever! I shook the thought away. Nothing on earth should so divide us. Honor compelled no man to wreck his life beyond redemption. But as I turned the problem over in my mind, I confess my heart sank. So long as Mlle. de Benseval lived, just so long was I bound to her. That was the final statement to which the tangle reduced itself, and I reflected bitterly upon the folly of parents who disposed of their children without asking their consent, or indeed before they were old enough to know to what they were consenting. A boy of ten will blithely promise to marry any one, or will bind himself indifferently with a vow of celibacy, for what does he know of either? Only when he comes to look at the world and the women in it with a man’s eyes does he understand. “What is it, Sir Sorrowful?” asked my companion at last. “The old problem?” “The old problem.” “Why ponder it? You have already said that no man can escape his destiny.” “I am going to escape mine if it be possible.” “Is escape worth so much worry?” “It is all the difference between hell and heaven!” “Oh, fie! What would the betrothed think could she hear you?” “I wish she could!” I retorted bitterly.