On the very evening that Colonel Cavendish and his wife were discussing Pierce Phillips' affair, Courteau, feeling in a particularly jubilant mood, decided to put the matter to a test; therefore he surprised his wife by walking into her room unannounced. "My dear," he began, "it's high time we had a talk." "Indeed!" said she. "What about?" "About you, about me, about our affairs. Are we husband and wife or are we not? I ask you." With a queer flicker of her eyelids she answered: "Why--of course. You have appeared to forget it sometimes, but--" "No reproaches, please. The past is gone. Neither of us is without blame. You've had your fling, too, but I've shown you that I'm made of stern stuff and will tolerate no further foolishness. I am a different Courteau than you ever knew. I've had my rebirth. Now then, our present mode of life is not pleasing to me, for I'm a fellow of spirit. Think of me--in the attitude of a dependent!" "I share generously with you. I give you money--" "The very point," he broke in, excitedly. "You give; I accept. You direct; I obey. It must end now, at once. I cannot play the accompaniment while you sing. Either I close my eyes to your folly and forgive, utterly--either we become man and wife again and I assume leadership--or I make different plans for the future." "Just what do you propose, Henri?" The fellow shrugged. "I offer you a reconciliation; that, to begin with. You've had your lesson and I flatter myself that you see me in a new light. The brave can afford to be generous. I--well, I've always had a feeling for you; I've never been blind to your attractions, my dear. Lately I've even experienced something of the--er--the old spell. Understand me? It's a fact.' I'm actually taken with you, Hilda; I have the fire of an impetuous lover." Courteau's eyes gleamed; there was an unusual warmth to his gaze and a vibrance to his tone. He curled his mustache, he swelled his chest, he laughed lightly but deeply. "What do you say, eh? I'm not altogether displeasing. No? You see something in me to admire? I thrill you? Confess." The wife lowered her eyes. "You have some power--" she murmured. "Power! Precisely." The Count nodded and there was a growing vivacity and sparkle to him. "That is my quality--a power to charm, a power to achieve, a power to triumph. Well, I choose now to win you again for myself. It is my whim. To rekindle a love which one has lost is a test of any man's power, n'est-ce pas? You are fond of me. I see it. Am I not right, my sweet?" He laid his soft white hands upon his wife's shoulders and bent an ardent gaze upon her. Hilda faced him with an odd smile; her cheeks were white, her ice-blue eyes were very wide and bright and they held a curious expression.