'
'Wisdom is not cunning, Madame; nor is it wicked to ask your meaning in
explicit language,' I replied.
'And so, you clever cheaile, we two sit here, playing at a game of chess,
over this little table, to decide which shall destroy the other--is it not
so?'
'I will not allow you to destroy me,' I retorted, with a sudden flash.
Madame stood up, and rubbed her mouth with her open hand. She looked to me
like some evil being seen in a dream. I was frightened.
'You are going to hurt me!' I ejaculated, scarce knowing what I said.
'If I were, you deserve it. You are very _malicious_, ma chere: or, it may
be, only very stupid.'
A knock came to the door.
'Come in,' I cried, with a glad sense of relief.
A maid entered.
'A letter, please, 'm,' she said, handing it to me.
'For _me_,' snarled Madame, snatching it.
I had seen my uncle's hand, and the Feltram post-mark.
Madame broke the seal, and read. It seemed but a word, for she turned it
about after the first momentary glance, and examined the interior of the
envelope, and then returned to the line she had already read.
She folded the letter again, drawing her nails in a sharp pinch along the
creases, as she stared in a blank, hesitating way at me.
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