But now he was at a disadvantage. He was unnerved by his love for
Etta--by the sight of Etta before him daringly, audaciously
beautiful--by the thought that she might never be his.

"It is not only that I love you," he said, "that I have a certain
position to offer you. These I beg you to take at their poor value. But
there are other circumstances known to both of us which are more worthy
of your attention--circumstances which may dispose you to reconsider
your determination."

"Nothing will do that," she replied; "not any circumstance."

Etta was speaking to De Chauxville and thinking of Paul Alexis.

"I should like to know since when you have discovered that you never
could under any circumstances marry me," pursued M. de Chauxville. "Not
that it matters, since it is too late. I am not going to allow you to
draw back now. You have gone too far. All this winter you have allowed
me to pay you conspicuous and marked attentions. You have conveyed to me
and to the world at large the impression that I had merely to speak in
order to obtain your hand."

"I doubt," said Etta, "whether the world at large is so deeply
interested in the matter as you appear to imagine. I am sorry that I
have gone too far, but I reserve to myself the right of retracing my
footsteps wherever and whenever I please. I am sorry I conveyed to you
or to any one else the impression that you had only to speak in order to
obtain my hand, and I can only conclude that your overweening vanity has
led you into a mistake which I will be generous enough to hold my tongue
about."