"It is a thing no man will ever see again," he said almost pathetically.
"Madame should have stayed until her countryman returned."
She made no comment, and when she had settled everything with the dour
maid, who was to return to Brigue, they began their drive, making their
way carefully through the press, and arousing no comment where so many
strangers were gathered. André, for his part, drew up more than once at
the roadside to show her just where the madman had flown and by what
height he would return.
"It was over there," he cried dramatically, indicating Mont Blanc with a
flourish of his long whip. "I saw him myself, madame—like the eagle we
see in the picture books. He was gone before a man could have counted
ten. If he comes again, it will be over the Weisshorn. Just think of
that—and we have lived to see it! He will come over the Weisshorn like
a flash of light, and to-morrow all the world will hear of it. Well, we
may not be too late after all, if we keep our eyes open. It is a pity,
though, that madame must go to-day."
She made no reply. Her eyes had followed vaguely the course of the
flight, and she had tried to realise the wonder of it. But her deeper
thoughts forbade her to do so. Had she been honest with herself, she
would have said that she was going away just because of this man’s
victory—fleeing from his success, because she believed that it was her
duty to do so.
Here she proved once more that a woman’s heart is impregnable to the
assaults of reason. Luton Delayne had not a shadow of claim upon her.
The world would say, "Well done!" if she carried her case to the courts
and ended forever the tragedy of the years. She intended to do nothing
of the kind. Behind her intention lay the traditions of centuries, the
habit of mind which the ancient Faith had fostered, and the resolution
of unnumbered millions of good women who had lived and suffered such a
life as this. At their bidding she fled from another and from his
victory. A certain resentment against the honours he had won possessed
her. He would be famous before the world to-morrow!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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