"Now I am to bed. I must
rise early."
Cadillac went with me to the door, his arm on my well shoulder. I saw
by the delay in his walk that he had more to say. It came slowly.
"Monsieur, one word. If you do not care to see madame,--if it is
awkward---- Well, I can arrange it without gossip. You need not see
her again, and no one need know. Leave that to me."
Not see her again! I do not know what savage, insane thing sprang to
life in me. I struck down Cadillac's arm.
"You take liberties. You meddle insufferably. She is my wife. I will
see her when I please."
I like to think that I was not responsible, that it was the cry of a
baited animal that could stand no more. Yet all the torture Cadillac
had been giving me had been unconscious. He stepped back and looked at
me.
"My God! You fool!"
Oh, I could have knelt to him for shame! My tongue began apology, but
my face told a better tale. Cadillac held up his hand.
"Stop. Montlivet, you love the Englishwoman? Why, I thought---- I
beg your pardon. I was the fool."
I went stumblingly toward the door before I could face him. Then I
turned and held out my hand. "There is no monopoly in fools.
Monsieur, if to love a woman, to love her against her will and your own
judgment, to love her hopelessly,--if that is folly, well, I am the
worst of fools, the most incurable.
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