“What for?”

“We are going down-town.  We shall celebrate our reunion—­we shall drink to it publicly.  All Dawson shall take note.  They have said, ’Courteau is a loafer, a ne’er-do-well, and he permits another to win his wife away from him.’  I propose to show them.”

“You mean you propose to show me off.  Is that it?  Another conquest, eh?”

“Have it as you will.  I—­”

“I won’t go,” Hilda cried, furiously.  She freed herself from his arms.  “You know I won’t go.  You’d like to parade me in the places you frequent—­saloons, dance-halls, gambling-houses.  The idea!”

“You won’t?  Tut, tut!  What is this?” Courteau cried, angrily.  “Rebellious so soon?  Is this recent change of demeanor assumed?  Have you been fooling me?”

“What change?” the woman parried.  “I don’t know—­”

“Oh yes, you do!  For the first time in years you have treated me as a husband should be treated; half-measures will no longer satisfy me.  We have arrived at the show-up.  Are you a miserable Delilah or—­”

“Please don’t ask me to go out with you, Henri,” the woman pleaded, in genuine distress, now that she saw he was in earnest.  “To be paraded like an animal on a chain!  Think of my feelings.”

“Indeed!  Think of mine,” he cried.  “This is my hour, my triumph; I propose to make it complete.  Now that I carefully consider it, I will put you to the test.  You’ve had a fine time; if you pay a price for it, whose fault is that?  No!  One must be cruel to be kind.”

“Cruel!  Kind!” Hilda sneered.  “It merely pleases you to humiliate me.”

“Very well!” blazed the Count.  “If it pleases me, so be it.  That is my attitude now and henceforth—­my will is to be law.  Come!  Your prettiest dress and your prettiest smile, for we celebrate.  Yes, and money, too; I’m as poverty-ridden as usual.  We will treat my friends, we will gamble here and there, we will watch the shows to an accompaniment of popping corks so that every one shall see us and say:  ’Yonder is Courteau and his wife.  They have made up and she adores him like a mistress.  Parbleu!  The man has a way with women, eh!’ It shall be a great night for me.”

“Are you really serious?”

Courteau stamped his felt-shod foot.  “Anger me no more.”

Hilda’s face was colorless, her eyes were still glowing with that peculiar light of defiance, of desperation, of curiosity; nevertheless, she turned away and began to dress herself.

Courteau was not disappointed.  His appearance in the river-front resorts, accompanied by his wife, created a sensation indeed.  And Hilda’s bearing, under the circumstances, added to his gratification, for, now that the die was cast, she surrendered completely, she clung to him as if feeling a new dependence, and this filled his cup to overflowing.  It was an outrageous thing to do; no one save a Courteau would have thought of subjecting the woman who bore his