"To be as the dust beneath the haughty feet of Madame la Marquise.
I hope I shall know my place in future."

The phrase arrested her. She turned to him again, and he perceived
that her eyes were shining now suspiciously. In an instant the
mockery in him was quenched in contrition.

"Lord, what a beast I am, Aline!" he cried, as he advanced.
"Forgive me if you can."

Almost had she turned to sue forgiveness from him. But his contrition
removed the need.

"I'll try," said she, "provided that you undertake not to offend
again.

"But I shall," said he. "I am like that. I will fight to save you,
from yourself if need be, whether you forgive me or not."

They were standing so, confronting each other a little breathlessly,
a little defiantly, when the others issued from the porch.

First came the Marquis of La Tour d'Azyr, Count of Solz, Knight of
the Orders of the Holy Ghost and Saint Louis, and Brigadier in the
armies of the King. He was a tall, graceful man, upright and
soldierly of carriage, with his head disdainfully set upon his
shoulders. He was magnificently dressed in a full-skirted coat of
mulberry velvet that was laced with gold. His waistcoat, of velvet
too, was of a golden apricot colour; his breeches and stockings were