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Chapter 26 The Gamester by Rafael Sabatini

FAREWELL
Arising out of all this, a queer mood of disgust with all things was still upon John Law when, a week or so later, he learnt that Margaret was again in Paris.

He was perhaps justified in accounting it no less than a duty to present himself at the house in the Rue d'Argenteuil; but it is not to be pretended that inclination had no part in it.

On this occasion there was neither porter nor footman to admit him. He was conducted by the Countess of Horn's maitre d'hotel through a house enshrouded as if it were untenanted. Only the boudoir, where he was again received, had been cleared of its mantlings and was gay as of old with its damask and its lacquers.

There Margaret came to him, straight and lissom in her black, a mourning assumed out of regard for the circumstances rather than for the actual dead.

"I thought that you might come," she said, with a wan smile, and put forth her hand.

He bowed over it and bore it to his lips. "Did you hope it?" he asked.

She gave him a slow, searching look before replying. "I scarcely know. All this has distracted me so much that my senses are a little numbed."

They sat down, with half the room between them. "I am merely passing through Paris," she informed him. "Pausing only to set affairs in order. Naturally I shall not now stay in France. The name of Horn has been made too infamous." She paused before adding: "In all this miserable affair the only ray of light for me is your escape from the fate that man intended for you."

The words took him by surprise. His long face became grim. "I see that Lady Stair has lost no time."

"She came this morning to condole with me."

"And to bring you matter calling for still deeper condolence."

"She told me that it is widely known that you persuaded the Regent to show the Count no mercy."

"That was kind of her. Did you believe it?"

"That you so persuaded the Regent?" She smiled with tight lips. "No. I happen to know you, John."

"Thank you, Margaret. It is as well that you should learn the actual truth. I all but embroiled myself with His Highness by pleading with him to be lenient."

She opened wide her lovely eyes. "That, in all the circumstances, is more, far more than was to be expected."

"No," he said. "It was proper that I should think of you and of the danger of this thing which Lady Stair has told you is widely known. I feared that if I sat still, your name might come to be smirched together with mine. As it is, unless her ladyship's tongue is bridled it may yet happen."

"You mean that men will say you were my lover, and that the Count of Horn's real purpose was to kill you so as to avenge his honour. It is a half-truth and might so easily have been a whole one. But for me it is no matter." Her tone was listless. "I am going out of it all, away, home to England."

"Is the decision irrevocable?"

"Do you know a better?"

He had thought he did; a nebulous thought that had brought him to her. But now her steady questioning glance served to clear his mind and spread reality before him. He had known that she could not remain in France; he had dimly considered that she was now free and, as he conceived, alone and defenceless, whilst, himself, in his present revulsion and for her sake, ready to abandon all that he had so laboriously built.

It had been vaguely in his mind that they might go together, to Italy or Spain or Holland, and together at last attempt to re-fashion their lives. But her eloquent almost challenging eyes told him all that had been obscured from his distorted perceptions, reminded him that he had nothing to offer save that which she had already firmly rejected, made him understand that their circumstances were nowise altered by Horn's death, as at a superficial glance it had seemed, or, if altered, were altered only by the erection of a fresh barrier.

As if she read his mind, this is what she told him when presently she spoke.

"I wonder, John, if the world has known a story more ironical than ours. 'The very events that have removed the obstacles between us have replaced them by chasms that may not be crossed."

"If it were not for Catherine," he said, "I could build a bridge."

"A bridge across two graves." Sadly smiling, she shook her head. "Do not deceive yourself. To do so merely sharpens torment, denies you peace. One of my husbands died by your hand, the other for his association with you. Even if you were now free to marry, how should we dare? We should be constrained to live in hiding, shunned, aware of the contempt that would everywhere be ours, and living thus we might come in the end to hate each other. Take the thought of that, if not as a balm, at least as a cautery for your wounds. I should be on my knees to you, John, for pardon, for having come again into your life to unsettle it, if I had not the excuse that I came to rescue you when you were in danger."

"That you came I shall never regret," he cried, "whatever the present pain. It brought me to knowledge of your great sacrifice, it restored to me the reverence in which once I held you, and the loss of which left me without reverence for anything. For that, at least, I am thankful."

"Then keep the thought of it to sweeten your memory of me, as my memory of you will be sweetened by that assurance. Seek happiness in Catherine, John, for I know that Catherine loves you and for me that knowledge would be a barrier if there were no other. For, believe me, there is no happiness to be built upon another's sorrow."

"Catherine!" he cried, in repudiation. "Should I have come to you as I did a year ago if I believed it? Catherine loves herself too well to have any love to spare. Of me she loves no more than the splendours I provide her. I cannot think that if misfortune overtook me I should find Catherine at my side."

"I wonder if you are not mistaken. In my heart and from what I saw at Sceaux I believe you are. But even if I should be wrong, you have still your children. Find your happiness in them, as I hope to find mine in my son. He will always remind me of you, for it was for your sake I got him. And now, dear love, it must be farewell between us. You were born to be fortunate, as I was born to be gay. Do not be false to your nature as fate has made me false to mine."

He realized that this was the irrevocable end. There was no more to say.

For the last time, and for a moment only, he held her in his arms. Then he went forth to meet the storm of which the first unsuspected clouds were gathering.

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