158 THE ETRUSCAN VASE
"Massigny! Massigny!" he burst forth with concentrated rage. " Can I never escape him? . . . No doubt the artist who painted this portrait painted another for Massigny. . What a fool I am to imagine for a moment that I am loved with a love equal to my own! . .. . just because she put aside her jewels and wore a rose in her hair! .. i. Jewels ! why, she has a chest fuU. . . „ Mas- signy, who thought of little else save a woman's toilet, was a lover of jewellery! , . . Yes, she has a gracious nature, it must be granted; she knows how to gratify the tastes of her lovers. Damn it! I would rather a hundred times that she were a courtesan and gave herself for money. Just because she was my mistress and unpaid I thought she loved me indeed."
Soon another still more unhappy idea pre- sented itself. In a few weeks' time the Countess would be out of mourning, and Saint-Clair had promised to marry her as soon as her year of widowhood was over. He had promised. Prom- ised? No. He had never spoken of it, but such had been his intention and the Countess had understood it so. But for him this was as good as an oath. Last night he would have given a throne to hasten the time for acknowledging his love pubhcly; now the very thought of marrying
