He was now face to face with his greatest
problem. One thing was clear--they must either part for ever, or go
together, and part no more. There could be no half measures. She was a
remarkable woman in her way, with a will of her own, and a kind of
madness in her; and there could be no backing and filling. They only had
three minutes to talk together alone, and two of them were up.
Her arms were held out to him, but he stood still, and before the fire of
her eyes his own eyes dropped. "No, not yet!" he exclaimed. "It's been a
day--heaven and hell, what a day it's been! He had me like that!" He
opened and shut his hand with fierce, spasmodic strength. "And he let me
go--oh, let me go like a fox out of a trap! I've had enough for one
day--blood of St. Peter, enough, enough!"
The flame of desire in her eyes suddenly turned to fury. "It is farewell,
then, that you wish," she said hoarsely. "It is no more and farewell
then? You said it to him"--she pointed to the other room--"you said it to
Jean Jacques, and you say it to me--to me that's given you all I have.
Ah, what a beast you are, George Masson!"
"No, Carmen, you have not given me all. If you had, there would be no
farewell. I would stand by you to the end of life, if I had taken all."
He lied, but that does not matter here.
"All--all!" she cried. "What is all? Is it but the one thing that the
world says must part husband and wife? Caramba! Is that all? I have given
everything--I have had your arms around me--"
"Yes, the Clerk of the Court saw that," he interrupted.
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