Zuleika, listening to him, had grown gradually paler and paler. She had raised her hands and cowered as though he were about to strike her. And then, as he pronounced the last three words, she had clasped her hands to her face and with a wild sob darted away from him. She was leaning now against the window, her head bowed and her shoulders quivering.
The Duke came softly behind her. “Why should you cry? Why should you turn away from me? Did I frighten you with the suddenness of my words? I am not versed in the tricks of wooing. I should have been more patient. But I love you so much that I could hardly have waited. A secret hope that you loved me too emboldened me, compelled me. You do love me. I know it. And, knowing it, I do but ask you to give yourself to me, to be my wife. Why should you cry? Why should you shrink from me? Dear, if there were anything … any secret … if you had ever loved and been deceived, do you think I should honour you the less deeply, should not cherish you the more tenderly? Enough for me, that you are mine. Do you think I should ever reproach you for anything that may have—”
Zuleika turned on him. “How dare you?” she gasped. “How dare you speak to me like that?”
The Duke reeled back. Horror had come into his eyes. “You do not love me!” he cried.
“Love you?” she retorted. “You?”
“You no longer love me. Why? Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“You loved me. Don’t trifle with me. You came to me loving me with all your heart.”
“How do you know?”
“Look in the glass.” She went at his bidding. He followed her. “You see them?” he said, after a long pause. Zuleika nodded. The two pearls quivered to her nod.
“They were white when you came to me,” he sighed. “They were white because you loved me. From them it was that I knew you loved me even as I loved you. But their old colours have come back to them. That is how I know that your love for me is dead.”
Zuleika stood gazing pensively, twitching the two pearls between her fingers. Tears gathered in her eyes. She met the reflection of her lover’s eyes, and her tears brimmed over. She buried her face in her hands, and sobbed like a child.
Like a child’s, her sobbing ceased quite suddenly. She groped for her handkerchief, angrily dried her eyes, and straightened and smoothed herself.
“Now I’m going,” she said.
“You came here of your own accord, because you loved me,” said the Duke. “And you shall not go till you have told me why you have left off loving me.”
“How did you know I loved you?” she asked after a pause. “How did you know I hadn’t simply put on another pair of earrings?”
The Duke, with a melancholy laugh, drew the two studs from his waistcoat-pocket. “These are the studs I wore last night,” he said.
Zuleika gazed at them. “I see,” she said; then, looking up, “When did they become like that?”
“It was when you left the dining-room that I saw the change in them.”
“How strange! It was when I went into the drawing-room that I noticed mine. I was looking in the glass, and”—She started. “Then you were in love with me last night?”
“I began to be in love with you from the moment I saw you.”
“Then how could you have behaved as you did?”
“Because I was a pedant. I tried to ignore you, as pedants always do try to ignore any fact they cannot fit into their pet system. The basis of my pet system was celibacy. I don’t mean the mere state of being a bachelor. I mean celibacy of the soul—egoism, in fact. You have converted me from that. I am now a confirmed tuist.”
“How dared you insult me?” she cried, with a stamp of her foot. “How dared you make a fool of me before those people? Oh, it is too infamous!”
“I have already asked you to forgive me for that. You said there was nothing to forgive.”
“I didn’t dream that you were in love with me.”
“What difference can that make?”
“All the difference! All the difference in life!”
“Sit down! You bewilder me,” said the Duke. “Explain yourself!” he commanded.
“Isn’t that rather much for a man to ask of a woman?”
“I don’t know. I have no experience of women. In the abstract, it seems to me that every man has a right to some explanation from the woman who has ruined his life.”
“You are frightfully sorry for yourself,” said Zuleika, with a bitter laugh. “Of course it doesn’t occur to you that I am at all to be pitied. No! you are blind with selfishness. You love me—I don’t love you: that is all you can realise. Probably you think you are the first man who has ever fallen on such a plight.”
Said the Duke, bowing over a deprecatory hand, “If there were to pass my window one tithe of them whose hearts have been lost to Miss Dobson, I should win no solace from that interminable parade.”
Zuleika blushed. “Yet,” she said more gently, “be sure they would all be not a little envious of you! Not one of them ever touched the surface of my heart. You stirred my heart to its very depths. Yes, you made me love you madly. The pearls told you no lie. You were my idol—the one thing in the wide world to me. You were so different from any man I had ever seen except in dreams. You did not make a fool of yourself. I admired you. I respected you. I was all afire with adoration of you. And now,” she passed her hand
