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TO COMB THERE WITH THE BIANCA WAS TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE EXISTENCE OF A TIE
Out in the cool of the falling night the pulses throbbing in his temples abated, and his reason asserted itself. There in the night waited his
lady of Heart's High Worship— waited the cool, shrined maid of the level, gray eyes; the woman who, wise and woman-tender, had promised to be his wife. ITe knew that he loved her with all the fineness in him, with every breath he drew in his noblest moments, with the real, manlove Of him. lie knew that it was she to whom he turned in his aspirations and Btrivingfl for the better things; it was she whom he dreamed of cradling
his children on her white breast; it WSJ she to whom lie knelt with sup
plicating, silenl prayer when, shamed and bruised of respect, lie came from the exotic presence of the dancer who had enslaved the baser self.
They were the cynosure of all <
as they entered the Pavilion do Bois
late that evening. To come there with
Bianca was to acknowledge the
itence of a tic. ami Pierre knew
thai to its most dire certainty. There
■ BD rumors of his infatuation
abroad, hut they had been only rumors; and. so long as he kept his liaison confined to the proper pi and did not flaunt it in the eyes of his world, no one had anything This was different This was brazenry. and the inhabitants of the clique within whose charmed circle Pierre do Brezeux had moved and where such as the l.ianca might n set foot, raised their penciled brows and Bcandalmongered gluttonously. They craned their necks and wondered, breathL whether
Marthe Rosay, Pierre's affianced wife,
would appear. They had not to 1 drv long. A slim figure, u gray — a queenly, light-poised figure, with an air of gentle, gracious dignity— entered, accompanied by her
mother and father, and sat at the
table only once removed from that
where sat Pierre de i and his
notorious inamorata,
Pierre tasted of the wat the
that night. Wormwood were the horribly obvious charms o( the danoi
he saw the dearer, rarer lun Marthe fading forever beyond his