The Yellow Crayon
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第51章 CHAPTER XXVI(2)

"You do not answer me, Lucille. You do not speak even a single kind word to me. Come! Surely we are old friends. We should understand one another. It is not a great deal that I ask from your kindness - not a great deal to you, but it is all the difference between happiness and misery for me."

"This is a very worn-out game, Prince," Lucille said coldly. "You have been making love to women in very much the same manner for twenty years, and I - well, to be frank, I am utterly weary of being made love to like a doll. Laugh at me as you will, my husband is the only man who interests me in the slightest. My failure to-day is almost welcome to me. It has at least brought my work here to a close. Come, Prince, if you want to earn my eternal gratitude, tell me now that I am a free woman."

"You give me credit," the Prince said slowly, "for great generosity.

If I let you go it seems to me that I shall lose you altogether.

You will go to your husband. He will take you away!"

"Why not?" Lucille asked. "I want to go. I am tired of London.

You cannot lose what you never possessed - what you never had the slightest chance of possessing.

The Prince laughed softly - not a pleasant laugh, not even a mirthful one.

"Dear lady," he said, "you speak not wisely. For I am very much in earnest when I say that I love you, and until you are kinder to me I shall not let you go."

"That is rather a dangerous threat, is it not?" Lucille asked.

"You dare to tell me openly that you will abuse your position, that you will keep me bound a servant to the cause, because of this foolish fancy of yours?"

The Prince smiled at her through the gloom - a white, set smile.

"It is no foolish fancy, Lucille. You will find that out before long. You have been cold to me all your life. Yet you would find me a better friend than enemy."

"If I am to choose," she said steadily, "I shall choose the latter."

"As you will," he answered. "In time you will change your mind."

The carriage had stopped. The Prince alighted and held out his hand. Lucille half rose, and then with her foot upon the step she paused and looked around.

"Where are we?" she exclaimed. "This is not Dorset House."

"No, we are in Grosvenor Square," the Prince answered. "I forgot to tell you that we have a meeting arranged for here this evening.

Permit me." But Lucille resumed her seat in the carriage.

"It is your house, is it not?" she asked.

"Yes. My house assuredly."

"Very well," Lucille said. "I will come in when the Duchess of Dorset shows herself at the window or the front door - or Felix, or even De Brouillae."

The Prince still held open the carriage door.

"They will all be here," he assured her. "We are a few minutes early."

"Then I will drive round to Dorset House and fetch the Duchess.

It is only a few yards."

The Prince hesitated. His cheeks were very white, and something like a scowl was blackening his heavy, insipid face.

"Lucille," he said, "you are very foolish. It is not much I ask of you, but that little I will have or I pledge my word to it that things shall go ill with you and your husband. There is plain speech for you. Do not be absurd. Come within, and let us talk.

What do you fear? The house is full of servants, and the carriage can wait for you here."

Lucille smiled at him - a maddening smile.

"I am not a child," she said, "and such conversations as I am forced to hold with you will not be under your own roof. Be so good as to tell the coachman to drive to Dorset House."

The Prince turned on his heel with a furious oath.

"He can drive you to Hell," he answered thickly.

Lucille found the Duchess and Lady Carey together at Dorset House.

She looked from one to the other.

"I thought that there was a meeting to-night," she remarked.

The Duchess shook her head.

"Not to-night," she answered. "It would not be possible. Genera1 Dolinski is dining at Marlborough House, and De Broullae is in Paris. Now tell us all about Mr. Brott."

"He has gone to Scotland," Lucille answered. "I have failed."

Lady Carey looked up from the depths of the chair in which she was lounging.

"And the prince?" she asked. "He went to meet you!"

"He also failed," Lucille answered.