Thus they sat down to dinner in silence--much to the waiters' surprise and disgust. Zara felt almost glad her husband looked angry. He would then of his own accord leave her in peace. As the soup and fish came and went they exchanged no word, and then that breeding that they both had made them realize the situation was impossible, and they said some ordinary things while the waiters were in the room. The table was a small round one with the two places set at right angles, and very close. It was the first occasion upon which Zara had ever been so near Tristram, and every time she looked up she was obliged to see his face. She could not help owning to herself, that he was extraordinarily distinguished looking, and that there were strong, noble lines in his whole shape. At the end of their repast, for different reasons, neither of the two felt calm. Tristram's anger had died down, likewise his suspicions; after a moment's thought the sane point of view always presented itself to his brain. No, whatever her reasons were for her disdain of him, having another lover was not the cause. And then he grew intoxicated again with her beauty and grace. She was a terrible temptation to him; she would have been so to any normal man--and they were dining together--and she was his very own! The waiters, with their cough of warning at the door, brought coffee and liqueurs, and then bodily removed the dinner table, and shut the doors. And now Zara knew she was practically alone with her lord for the night. He walked about the room--he did not drink any coffee, nor even a Chartreuse--and she stood perfectly still. Then he came back to her, and suddenly clasped her in his arms, and passionately kissed her mouth. "Zara!" he murmured hoarsely. "Good God! do you think I am a stone! I tell you I love you--madly. Are you not going to be kind to me and really be my wife?" Then he saw a look in her eyes that turned him to ice. "Animal!" she hissed, and hit him across the face. And as he let her fall from him she drew back panting, and deadly white; while he, mad with rage at the blow, stood with flaming blue eyes, and teeth clenched. "Animal!" again she hissed, and then her words poured forth in a torrent of hate. "Is it not enough that you were willing to sell yourself for my uncle's money--that you were willing to take as a bargain--a woman whom you had never even seen, without letting your revolting passions exhibit themselves like this? And you dare to tell me you love me! What do such as you know of love? Love is a true and a pure and a beautiful thing, not to be sullied like this. It must come from devotion and knowledge. What sort of a vile passion is it which makes a man feel as you do for me? Only that I am a woman. Love! It is no love--it is a question of sense. Any other would do, provided she were as fair. Remember, my lord! I am not your mistress, and I will not stand any of this! Leave me. I hate you, animal that you are!"