“He wouldn’t believe you!” I exclaimed, desperately.  And my only hope was that I might be right.

“As a matter of fact, he didn’t seem to at first, so I at once understood that you hadn’t spoken of our appointment.  But it was too late to atone for my carelessness, and I did the next best thing:  justified my veracity.  I suggested that, if he didn’t take my word for it, he might stand where he could see us speaking together at the stage door, and—­”

“Ah, I am glad of that!” I cut in.  “Then he saw that we didn’t drive away together.”

“You jump at conclusions, just like less clever women.  I hardly thought you’d receive me into your carriage at the theatre, so I took the precaution of warning du Laurier that he needn’t expect to see that.  You would suggest a place for me to meet you, I said.  When I knew it, I would inform him if he chose to wait about somewhere for a few minutes.”

“Raoul du Laurier would scorn to spy upon me!” I broke out.

“How hard you are on spies.  And how little knowledge of human nature you have, after all, if you don’t understand that a man suddenly out of his head with jealousy will do things of which he’d be incapable when he was sane.”

The argument silenced me.  I knew—­I had known for a long time—­that jealousy could rouse a demon in Raoul.  And only to-night he had reminded me that he was a “jealous brute.”  I remembered what answer he had made when I asked him what he would do if I deceived him.  He said that he would kill me, and kill himself after.  As he spoke, the blood had streamed up to his forehead, and streamed back again, leaving him pale.  A flash like steel had shot out of his eyes—­the dear eyes that are not cold.  It was true, as this cruel wretch reminded me, Raoul would do things under the torture of jealousy that he would cut off his hand sooner than do when his own, sweet, poet-nature was in ascendancy.

“As a proof of what I say,” Godensky went on, “du Laurier did wait, did hear from me the place where you were to stop and pick me up.  And if it wouldn’t be the worst of form to bet, I’d bet that he found some way of getting there in time to see that I had told the truth.”

“You coward!” I stammered.

“On the contrary, a brave man.  I’ve heard that du Laurier is a fine shot, and that very few men in Paris can touch him with the foils.  So you see—­”

“You want to frighten me!” I exclaimed.

“You misjudge me in every way.”

My only answer was to tell Marianne to press the button which gives the signal for my chauffeur to stop.  Instantly the electric carriage slowed down, then came to a standstill.  My man opened the door and Count Godensky submitted to my will.  Nevertheless, he was far from being in a submissive mood, as I did not need to be reminded by the tone of his voice when he said “au revoir.”

Nothing could have been more polite than the words or his way of speaking them, as he stood in the street with his hat in his hand.  But to me they meant a threat, and as a threat they were intended.