Part 40 (1/2)

”I don't see how you can prevent it,” she said dully.

”I? No; I can do nothing. But you can. Diana, beloved, have faith in me! I can't explain those things to you--not now. Some day, please G.o.d, I shall be able to, but till that day comes--trust me!” There was a depth of supplication and entreaty in his tone, but it left her unmoved. She felt frozen--pa.s.sionless.

”Do you mean--do you mean that Adrienne, your name, everything, is all part of--of what you can't tell me? Part of--the shadow?”

He was silent a moment. Then he answered steadily:--

”Yes. That much I may tell you.”

She put up her hand and pushed back her hair impatiently from her forehead.

”I can't understand it . . . I can't understand it,” she muttered.

”Dear, must one understand--to love? . . . Can't you have faith?”

His eyes, those blue eyes of his which could be by turns so fierce, so unrelenting, and--did she not know it to her heart's undoing?--so unutterably tender, besought her. But, for once, they awakened no response. She felt cold--quite cold and indifferent.

”No, Max,” she answered wearily. ”I don't think I can. You ask me to believe that there is need for you to see so much of Adrienne. At first you said it was because of the play. Now you say it has to do with this--this thing I may not know. . . . I'm afraid I can't believe it. I think a man's wife should come first--first of anything. I've tried--oh, I've tried not to mind when you left me so often to go to Adrienne. I used to tell myself that it was only on account of the play. I tried to believe it, because--because I loved you so.

But”--with a bitter little smile--”I don't think I ever _really_ believed it--I only cheated myself. . . . There's something else, too--the shadow. Baroni knows what it is--and Olga Lermontof. Only I--your wife--I know nothing.”

She paused, as though expecting some reply, but Max remained silent, his arms folded across his chest, his head a little bent.

”I was only a child when you married me, Max,” she went on presently.

”I didn't realise what it meant for a husband to have some secret business which he cannot tell his wife. But I know now what it means.

It's merely an excuse to be always with another woman--”

In a stride Max was beside her, his eyes blazing, his hands gripping her shoulders with a clasp that hurt her.

”How dare you?” he exclaimed. ”Unsay that--take it back? Do you hear?”

She shrank a little, twisting in his grasp, but he held her remorselessly.

”No, I won't take it back. . . . Ah! Let me go, Max, you're hurting me!”

He released her instantly, and, as his hands fell away from her shoulders, the white flesh reddened into bars where his fingers had gripped her. His eyes rested for a moment on the angry-looking marks, and then, with an inarticulate cry, he caught her to him, pressing his lips against the bruised flesh, against her eyes, her mouth, crus.h.i.+ng her in his arms.

She lay there pa.s.sively; but her body stiffened a little, and her lips remained quite still and unresponsive beneath his.

”Diana! . . . Beloved! . . .”

She thrust her hands against his chest.

”Let me go,” she whispered breathlessly, ”Let me go. I can't bear you to touch me.”

With a quick, determined movement she freed herself, and stood a little away from him, panting.

”Don't ever . . . do that . . . again. I--I can't bear you to touch me . . . not now.”