She held in her hand a screen,
and if any thoughts marked her face, they remained in blurred
obscurity.
"Heu!" said Madame from the opposite side; "it is all over. It
was detestable. I, to suffer this humiliation! Do you know what
I have done? I have promised to be his wife! His wife, I! Is it
not droll?" There was a surprising absence of mirth in the low
laugh which followed.
"I trust Madame will find it droll."
"And you?"
"And I, Madame?"
"Yes; did you not bring the clown to your feet?"
"No, Madame."
"How? You did not have the joy denied me --of laughing in his face?"
"No, Madame." With each answer the voice grew lower.
"Since when have I been Madame to you?"
"Since to-day."
Madame reached out a band and pressed down the screen. "Elsa,
what is it?"
"What is what, Madame?"
"This strange mood of yours."
Silence.
"You were gay enough this morning. Tell me."
"There is nothing to tell, Madame, save that my sacrifices are
at an end. I have nothing left."
"What! You forsake me when the end is won?" in astonishment.
"I did not say that I should desert you; I said that I had no
more sacrifices to make.
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