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Updated: June 13, 2025
St. Genis would not allow himself to answer that question, for he felt that if he did he would hate that hard-fisted Englishman more thoroughly than he had ever hated any man before not excepting de Marmont. De Marmont was an evil and vile traitor who never could cross Crystal's path of life again. .
Madame la Duchesse d'Agen spoke to him once, while he stood by watching Crystal's dainty form walking through the mazes of a quadrille with her hand in that of St. Genis. "They look well matched, do they not, Mr. Clyffurde?" Madame said in broken English and with something of her usual tartness; "and you? are you not going to recognise old friends, may I ask?"
Had the solemn silence which hung so ominously in the twilight not been broken till after the sick man had been borne away, the whole of Crystal's future would have been shaped differently. But as with the rain at Waterloo, God had need of a tool for the furtherance of His will and it was Maurice de St. Genis whom He chose Maurice who with his own words set the final seal to his destiny.
Crystal's gentle voice fell like dream-tones upon his ear. Vaguely only did he hear what she said.
"Are you not content for the moment, Crystal," he called out with tender reproach, "to know that victory has crowned our King and his allies and that I have come back to you safely out of that raging hell at Waterloo? Are you not glad that I am here?" He spoke more vehemently now, for there was something in Crystal's calm attitude which had begun to chill him.
He had accepted Crystal's ministrations for his comfort with a look of gratitude. Jeanne had put a pillow to his head, and he lay now outwardly placid and quiescent. Even, perhaps for such is human nature and such the heart of youth as he saw Crystal's sweet face bent with so much pity toward him a sense of hope, of happiness yet to be, chased the more melancholy thoughts away.
"You will have to tell me some other time," she said lightly. "Don't forget!" The psychological moment had gone by and Clyffurde cursed himself for having fought too long against the promptings of his heart and lost the precious moments which might have changed the whole of Crystal's future.
Cord added the last sentence without the slightest change of tone or expression as his guest was ushered in by Tomes, who, catching Crystal's eyes for a more important fact than Eddie's arrival, murmured that luncheon was served.
Beneath these waves of crimson lie, In rosy fetters prisoned fast, Those flitting shapes that never die, The swift-winged visions of the past. Kiss but the crystal's mystic rim, Each shadow rends its flowery chain, Springs in a bubble from its brim And walks the chambers of the brain.
"And what of him, you abominable cur?" The shout which came from behind him checked the words on de Marmont's lips. He let go his hold of Crystal's arm as he felt two sinewy hands gripping him by the throat.
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