figure seemed to droop, and her hands hung heavy, listless, at her
sides.

"I care"--the words came in a strange mechanical way from her lips. "Oh,
I care. I can't--I won't go back to that. And I know--I know now. I have
learned what love is."

Quick over Madison's face surged the red in an unstemmed tide--volcanic
within him his love that he knew now possessed his very soul, jealousy
that, blinding, robbed him of his senses, roused him to frenzy.

"Oh, you've learned what love is, have you--_with him_!" he cried--and
sprang for her and snatched her into his arms. "And you won't come, eh?
Well, I've learned what love is too in the last month--and if I can't
get it one way, I'll get it another"--he was raining mad kisses upon her
face, her hair, her eyes--"I love you, I tell you--I love you!"

With a cry she tried to struggle from him--and then fought and struck at
him, beating upon his face with her fists. Fiercer, closer he held
her--around the little room, staggering this way and that, they circled.
He kissed her, laughing hoarsely like a madman, laughing at the blows,
beside himself, not knowing what he did--mad--mad--mad. He kissed her,
kissed the white throat where the dress was torn now at the neck;
imprisoned a little fist that struck at him and kissed the quivering
knuckles; kissed the wealth of glorious, burnished-copper hair that,
unloosened, fell about her, kissed it and buried his face in its rare
fragrance. And then--and then his arms were empty--and he was staring at
the calm, majestic figure of the Patriarch--and Helena was crouched upon
the floor, and, sobbing, was clinging with arms entwined around the old
man's knees.