An Ingenious Idea and a Woman's Wit

Madame sat down. There was an interval of silence, during which the
candles seemed to move strangely from side to side, and the dark face
beyond was blurred and indistinct; all save the eyes, which, like the
lidless orbs of a snake, held and fascinated her. Vaguely she
comprehended the peril of a confused mind, and strove to draw upon that
secret inward strength which discovers itself in crises.

"How did you obtain that paper, Monsieur?"

The calm of her voice, though he knew it to be forced, surprised him.
"How did I obtain it? By strategy."

"Ah! not by the sword, then?" leaning upon the table, her fingers alone
betraying her agitation. "Not by the sword, and the mask, and the grey
cloak?"

As if the question afforded him infinite amusement, the vicomte laughed.

"Would I be here?" he said. "Would I have ventured into this desert?
Rather would I not have spoken yonder in France? I shall tell you how
I obtained it . . . after we are married."

Madame raised a hand and nervously tapped a knuckle against her teeth.

"Which is it to be, Madame?" caressing the paper.

"Monsieur, you are not without foresight and reason. Have you
contemplated what I should become in time, forced into a marriage with
a man whom I should not love, with whom I should always associate the
sword, and the mask, and the grey cloak?"

"I have speculated upon that side of it," easily, "and am willing to
take the risk. In time you would forget all about the sword and the
cloak, since they can in no wise be associated with me. Eventually you
would grow to love me."