“Yes, there is someone else,” she said, with the same calm decision.  “No, it is not one of the women here; it is a girl in the place; a farmer’s daughter, I think.  It is only a liaison, a vulgar intrigue—­”

He uttered an exclamation.

“And yet that doesn’t cure you!”

She shook her head and smiled.

“No; my case is incurable.  Father, if he were engaged to anyone of the women here, to someone his equal, I should still love him and want him; yes, and move heaven and earth to get him.  But this is only a flirtation with some country girl—­she meets him on the hill-side by the river—­anywhere.  I have seen them, at a distance, once or twice.  She is of no importance.  She has caught his fancy, and will soon fail to hold it.”

She waved her hand as if she were moving the obstacle aside.  Her father stared at her in a kind of stupefaction.

“My girl, don’t you know what you are asking for?  A life of wretchedness and misery; the hell of being married to a man who doesn’t love you.”

She laughed and drew herself up, her eyes flashing, a warm glow on her cheeks.

“Who doesn’t love me!  Not now, perhaps; but do you think I should not teach him to love me, make him love me?  Look at me, father!”

He looked at her reluctantly, in a kind of dazed admiration and resentment.

“Do you think any man could resist me if I set my mind upon winning him?  No!  Oh, it’s not the language of hysterical vanity!  I know my power; every woman knows how far her power will go.  Let me have him to myself for one week, and—­” She caught her breath.  “Love!  Yes, he shall return mine tenfold!  I will teach him!” She caught her breath again and pressed her hands to her bosom.  “Don’t be afraid, father, I will take care of the future.  Help me in the present; help me as I have asked you!”

“By God, you ask too much!” he said, sternly, fiercely.

She stood and looked at him.  The colour slowly left her face until it was white as death, the light faded from her eyes until they were dull and lifeless, the red of her lips paled and the lips themselves relaxed and drooped, and as he looked at her a ghastly fear smote his heart and a question shot into and a question shot into his eyes.  She inclined her head as if he had put the question in words.

“Yes,” she said.  “I shall die.  You remember my mother?  I shall follow her—­”

He uttered a low, hoarse cry, and caught her hands and held them; then he flung them from him, and standing with his back to her, said, thickly, as if every word were forced from him: 

“You shall have your way!  You always have had, like your mother before you—­you always will.  But mark my words:  you’ll live to curse the hour you forced me to do this!”

She drew a long breath—­it was almost a sigh—­of relief, and she laid her hands on his arms and kissed him on the forehead.