"No, no, Monsieur le Prince!" protested Tellier. "It was none of
these--I swear it! She left the note lying quite carelessly--"
But the Prince was upon him. With one hand at the back of his neck, he
steered him, sputtering, to the door.
"Glueck!" he cried, and pitched the Frenchman into the arms of the
faithful servant. The duchess, sitting within the room, caught the
sound of a scuffle, of fierce swearing; then a succession of dull bumps
sounded through the apartment. The Prince closed the door and turned
back to her.
"But, my dear Fritz!" she protested. "It may be true that Tellier is
abominable, yet sometimes one must use such instruments--surely, at
this moment, we are justified in using any instrument. I have paid him,
thank heaven! You must listen to reason. You have been fooled--we have
all been fooled--they have been playing with us--laughing at us behind
our backs for our simplicity--the girl as well as the others."
"No!" he said, fiercely. "No!"
"Fritz," she cried, her voice trembling, a mist before her eyes as she
looked at him, "you believe that I love you, do you not--oh, better than
anything else in the world. You believe that I desire your happiness!
But it must be happiness with honour, Fritz, as becomes a Markeld. You
have your name to consider, your house.
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