"
He flung back his head and laughed heartily.
"A trifle hard on my Chateau, cousin, to locate it on the road to Hell.
But we will let it pass. For, between us, it is a good road and an
easy; and they, who travel it, are a finer lot than the superstitious
dreamers who grope, in darkness, along the bleak and stony path they
fancy leads upward to the Light."
"You mistook my meaning," I said. "It's not for me to criticise
another's chosen road, whether it be the rough one or the smooth.
There are no hand boards at the forking, and only a blind fall at the
end of each. It's all a guess; and, so far as I know, one road is as
good as another."
He looked at me, rather curiously. "Which road do you travel, cousin?"
he asked.
"Neither, by intention," I answered. "I am still at the Forks."
He laughed, rather sarcastically. "Well, when you leave them, if you
chance to come my way, the Chateau is at your disposal. Meanwhile,
I'll endeavor to steer Madame Spencer, alias Dalberg, toward it."
I could feel the deliberate sneer, but it was too well veiled to
resent, openly.
"At least, don't expect me as a guest while she is there," I replied.
"I don't imagine I would want you, then," said he.
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