Something in him
revolted at a war between his own son and himself. Also, he wanted to
tell her of the danger in which Carnac was--how Luzanne had come, and was
hidden away in the outskirts of the city, waiting for the moment when the
man who rejected her should be sacrificed.
Now that Barouche was face to face with Alma Grier, however, he felt the
appalling nature of his task. In all the years he had taken no chance to
pay tribute to the woman who, in a real sense, had been his mistress of
body and mind for one short term of life, and who once, and once only,
had yielded to him. They were both advanced in years, and Life and Time
had taken toll. She was haggard, yet beautiful in a wan way. He did not
believe the vanished years had placed between them an impassable barrier.
He put his chances to the test at last.
"Yes, I know--I understand. You remained silent because your nature was
too generous to injure anyone. Down at the bottom of his heart,
cantankerous, tyrannical as he was, John Grier loved you, and I loved you
also."
She made a protest of her hand. "Oh, no! You never knew what love
was--never! You had passion, you had hunger of the body, but of love you
did not know. I know you, Barode Barouche.
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