"By Beelzebub--you--the runaway mistress of a fop--dares to question me--her rightful lord?" "Who made the laws that bound me to your keeping? They are man-made, and God knows as little of them as he knows of you. It was your measureless conceit, your boundless egotism, that whispered to you that any woman should feel honored, should deem it the height of glory, to be your wife." "And is it not?" She shuddered. "You never dreamed there might be something in the depths of my soul that cried out for more than the mere comforts and exigencies of existence! Something that craved love, companionship, and, above all, friendship. What have you done to waken this little slumbering voice which died in the shadow of your tremendous egotism?" He stared at her. "He has taught you this speech, by God!" "He has awakened my true self! What was I to you but part of your magnificence, a thing to make your fellows envious--" He roared. She continued: "The one decent woman of your life--your world--" His eyes glared. "So then, this low-born churl is a better man than I?" "At least he knew I had a soul of my own." "Skillfully cultivated to his own sweet ends." "His ends were innocent, else had he not fled." "Knowing that you would follow him." "He knew naught." "That remains to be seen." "It was you who brought us together!" she said with quiet scorn. "You were so sure in your pride and your power and of my own timidity that you thought it impossible that something might defy them. And you could not understand that another might be so much closer to my nature, or that I had a nature of my own. In those days I well remember, ere my heart had strayed too far, I tried to waken you to the great danger. I tried to speak of mine. But you would not be apprised of aught that would seem a concession to your pride. So we are come to this!" Her eyes filled with tears. "Come to what?" he thundered. "My ruin--and your disgrace!" His breast heaved. "Of you I know nothing. As for myself--I suffer no disgrace. I am too much a man of sense for that. Not a soul but thinks that you are absent with my consent. A pilgrimage to Rome! Many a woman has, for her soul's good gone alone. Not a soul, I warrant, has thought of your connection with that fellow's plight. Not a soul but thinks that this is the sole cause of your disappearance. And when I, too, went I was careful to leave the rumor behind." He stepped closer, his breath fanning her pale cheeks. She looked almost like a ghost in the grey twilight. "And now--" he continued, licking his sensuous lips, "you are found--you are found--my beautiful wife--you are found--and--to the eyes of the world at least--unstained. One alone whose lips are sealed, knows." Hellayne's lips tightened. "And a woman." A strange expression came into his face. "Have you spied upon me, too?" "You forget the meeting at the Arch." "No woman will spread the story of a rival's claims!"