Silently the young husband entered and, pausing, regarded his wife with
mingled pain and pleasure--pain to see her so spiritless, pleasure to
see her so fair. She seemed unconscious of his presence till the
fragrance of his floral burden betrayed him, and looking up to smile a
welcome she met a glance that changed the sad dreamer into an excited
actor, for it told her that the object of her search was found.
Springing erect, she asked eagerly, "Manuel, is he here?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
"His wife is with him."
"Is she beautiful?"
"Pretty, petite, and petulant."
"And he?"
"Unchanged: the same imposing figure and treacherous face, the same
restless eye and satanic mouth. Pauline, let me insult him!"
"Not yet. Were they together?"
"Yes. He seemed anxious to leave her, but she called him back
imperiously, and he came like one who dared not disobey."
"Did he see you?"
"The crowd was too dense, and I kept in the shadow."
"The wife's name? Did you learn it?"
"Barbara St. Just."
"Ah! I knew her once and will again. Manuel, am I beautiful tonight?"
"How can you be otherwise to me?"
"That is not enough. I must look my fairest to others, brilliant and
blithe, a happy-hearted bride whose honeymoon is not yet over."
"For his sake, Pauline?"
"For yours. I want him to envy you your youth, your comeliness, your
content; to see the man he once sneered at the husband of the woman he
once loved; to recall impotent regret.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26